


been talking 'bout the way things change

by emavee



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: And maybe a tiny bit of angst, Family Bonding, Five Centric, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life, a little hurt/comfort, au where vanya never causes the apocalypse, based on the author's own experience playing violin, because five! deserves! a! dog!, but mostly it's all fluff, copious amounts of coffee, mr. pennycrumb - Freeform, violin lessons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 02:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18437147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emavee/pseuds/emavee
Summary: With the apocalypse stopped for good, Five has just been sort of… drifting. He’s still getting used to being back in a world with people and learning how to be part of a family again. He’s more relaxed than he’s been, well, ever, but still. Sometimes he feels a bit lost without a mission.Diego thinks he needs a hobby.In which Five loves the rain, gets to know his family, and relearns how to live.





	1. nothing is as it has been

**Author's Note:**

> is this self-indulgent fluff? yes. is this just an excuse to write grumpy Five learning violin from Vanya? also yes.
> 
>  
> 
> (work and chapter titles are all from rivers and roads by the head and the heart)

“I think you could use a hobby.”

Diego shuts the door behind Five and motions for him to make himself comfortable in his dingy apartment—if it could really be called that, considering it was a boiler room with a bed. Still, he knows Diego likes it because it’s his own space, and Five can certainly respect that. After all, he’s fifty-eight and still living in his childhood bedroom.

Five plops down in a chair and peels off his rain-soaked hoodie.

“I’m thinking about getting my GED,” he says.

Diego turns to look at him, a ghost of a smile on his face. “I think that’s great—really, Five. But you know that’s not really a hobby, right?”

Five shrugs. “And what exactly are your hobbies, Diego?”

His brother purses his lips. “I have hobbies.”

“So you’d be willing to offer up some suggestions?” Five asks, blinking his eyes owlishly in mock interest.

“Maybe,” Diego grunts, but doesn’t add anything else. Five knows his brother’s list of hobbies pretty much includes knives, vigilantism, loving Mom, and knives again. “Did you leave a note?” he asks, changing the subject.

Five nods. There’s a bright orange sticky note right stuck on the fridge, letting the others know he was going out. It’s a practice they’ve all adopted to make sure no one ever goes missing again, although Five still tends to go off on his own the most. The house can get a little loud, and sometimes he just needs to get out and clear his head.

“Told them I was going for a walk.”

“Right,” Diego nods. “I’ll call the house and let them know you’re staying here tonight. Don’t want them to think you’ve been kidnapped overnight.”

Five wrinkles his nose and scoffs. “You guys don’t have to worry about me.”

“Just you try and tell Vanya that. Or Allison, for that matter. They’re going to worry, Five, whether you need it or not. Probably better to just appease them.”

Five hums in acknowledgement. They’ve had this conversation before; he’s resigned to it by now. His family is a big bunch of sappy worrywarts sometimes, and he’s mostly stopped trying to fight it—at least the small stuff, like letting Diego call home and confirm his whereabouts. It’s better than dealing with them all overreacting and trying to baby him every time he goes out to get a cup of coffee.

(Plus, there was the unfortunate incident with the Commission clean-up crew ambushing him, somehow managing to knock him out, and dragging him to some dirty motel. He’d fought back once he woke up and obviously a couple of Commission goons were no match for him, but he’d been a bit roughed up, so it wasn’t overly surprising when he stumbled back into the mansion and promptly passed the fuck out on the foyer floor. They’d all figured he’d just gone out for late-night coffee and didn’t manage to get back before they went to sleep. Luckily Klaus had been wandering around at 4:00 in the morning and happened to trip over him before he bled out, but after that they all decided that at least leaving notes was a _must._ Even Five had to admit that maybe it was a good call. If something similar had happened to any of his siblings and he hadn’t known where they were…)

Five simply sighs and lets his brother do his thing while he kicks off his damp shoes. He barely manages to look up in time to see Diego chuck something at his face. Snatching it out of the air right before it smacks him in the nose, he realizes it’s a balled-up pair of socks. Five stares at them long enough for Diego to start chuckling at him.

“They’re just socks, dude.” Thick, luxuriously soft socks, light blue with yellow toes. Five honestly has no idea why Diego even has them in the first place, since they don’t match his usual color scheme.

“I can see that. Why?” He glances over to watch his brother continue to rifle through his closet.

Diego shrugs, his back still to Five. “Yours are wet. And it’s cold on the floor—where you’ll be sleeping. Here. Take this too.” He hurls yet another article of clothing at him, this time a dark grey sweatshirt, soft and worn-in.

“I agree to sleep on the floor one time…” Five grumbles, tugging the sweatshirt over his head. It’s big, oversized probably even on Diego, but warm and comfortable.

“You could have slept in your own bed at home,” Diego counters. “You’re the one who just had to go for a walk in this disgusting weather and come crawling to me like a house cat someone left out in the rain.”

He doesn’t actually mind the floor, which is why he always offers to take it. Diego and Klaus are the only ones that don’t challenge him when he does stuff like that. The others look at him all pityingly and get insistent that _Oh, Five, this isn’t the apocalypse anymore. You’ve already slept on the ground for forty years…_ He’s glad Diego just goes along with it without asking too many questions. Even after being home for months, Five still sometimes sleeps on the floor in his own room, when the bed is too soft and stifling and threatens to swallow him up.

“Your place was closer,” he says.

Diego grunts. “Yeah, whatever. I have to get up early tomorrow, so go ahead and find yourself a nice, comfy piece of floor.”

“What do you have to get up early for?” Five asks. “Listening obsessively to the police scanner can’t wait for the sun?”

Diego continues his childish trend of throwing things at Five, this time a pillow. Five catches it and hugs it tightly to his chest, jumping into the corner and tucking it under his head as a curls up. The floor is a bit cold, but Five finds he doesn’t mind. And Diego’s stupid sweatshirt and socks are actually quite cozy.

“Do you need a blanket?”

“No, I’m good.” They both know he’s slept in far worse places than Diego’s floor, and the cool ground is much better than waking up sweltering and suffocated. He’s glad Diego doesn’t argue because he doesn’t know how to explain his preference for the cold.

Diego flips off the lights and Five hears him fling himself down loudly on the bed. His stoic, Batman-wannabe, bondage-clad brother really is secretly a drama queen.

“Thanks,” Five says quietly.

“What was that?”

“I’m not saying it again, asshole.”

Diego huffs out a laugh. “‘Night, Five.”

It doesn’t take long for his brother to start snoring, but Five finds it oddly comforting. He isn’t particularly tired himself—overly used to going days without sleep—but he’d found himself on Diego’s doorstep after a couple hours of wandering the city, and he hadn’t been in the mood to try and get back to the mansion. Too far to walk and jumping was trickier in the rain, especially for long-distances.

He likes it when the air is cool and the rain soaks into his skin, and he takes nearly every available opportunity to go out and take it all in. His family has come to expect it, and none of them question it anymore.

He’s been a little lost recently. Not a bad lost, not confused and frantic—after all, the apocalypse has been stopped and he’s accomplished his mission. But it means he’s not quite sure where he stands anymore. He’s been slowly getting to know his brothers and sisters again, learning to be a part of a family again. But other than that, he’s just sort of been… wandering, bouncing from sibling to sibling and observing their mundane lives.

Maybe Diego was onto something about him finding a hobby. Huh.

 

* * *

 

“Why me?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Do I need an excuse to want to spend time with you, Five?” Allison says, mock pouting.

“Humor me.”

His sister sighs deeply. “Fine. You’re the only one home, and I can’t get this done by myself.”

He peers closer, scrutinizing her features for any hint of falsehood. “You sure it’s not because I look like this? Because I’m not a child, Allison. I have no idea how your daughter would want her room decorated.”

She waves him off. “Of course not. I know what Claire likes. I just need extra hands and, well, you’re it. Vanya’s at rehearsal, Diego’s out, and Luther’s at the store with Klaus, and you know it’s going to take them forever to do even a simple task.”

“Was it really a good idea pairing them up?”

“Oh, they’ll be fine. Don’t change the subject. Are you in or not?”

He stands up, shrugging. “I guess I don’t really have anything better to do.”

“That’s the spirit,” Allison says with an eyeroll. She jangles her car keys impatiently. “C’mon.”

“Wait, where are we going? I thought I was just going to be moving furniture.” He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth.

She looks down at him with a raised eyebrow and he rolls back his shoulders, trying to appear as tall as possible. Damn Allison with her long legs and her stupid high heels.

“Five…”

“Don’t say it,” he snaps. He already knows where she’s going with this.

“If I wanted some extra muscle…”

“Allison, I’m warning you—”

“I don’t think you’d be my first choice.” He glares up at her dangerously. “Certainly not the last,” she tacks on quickly. “You’ve got Vanya and Klaus beat, but—”

“I feel like you should quit while you’re already behind.”

“Yeah, alright. No, you’re not moving furniture. There’s already a bed and a dresser set up in one of the spare rooms near mine. You’re just coming with me to pick up paint and decorations.”

“I already told you that I don’t know what your daughter would like.”

“And I already told _you,_ you’re just a walking set of hands to me. Or teleporting? Whatever. Just come on.”

“I’ll drive,” he says.

“No.” He glowers at that, but at least she doesn’t protest him sitting shotgun like Luther always does.

As it turns out, his sister is a giant liar—throughout their entire shopping trip she was _constantly_ asking Five for his opinions.

Allison points back and forth between two comforters, one yellow and covered in petite white and blue flowers and the other lavender with a smattering of teal butterflies. They both look equally colorful and childish to Five.

“I think she’d like either one of them,” Allison was saying. “But… I’m not sure. Which one do you like better?”

He opens his mouth to spit out that he has no opinion because _he’s not a little girl_ and _why does it even matter, a blanket is a blanket no matter what color,_ but something stops him.

The harsh bedrooms that they grew up in, filled with memories that belonged more to soldiers than to children—it’s not a place Claire deserves to ever be. His niece (and _wow,_ he has a niece, isn’t that something) deserves a much better childhood than her mother and everyone else who grew up in that house.

Allison just wants her daughter to have a happy bedroom. And what the hell—Five wants Claire to have that too. It’s obvious that she’s going to be just fine with either one of the comforters, so it’s not like Five can possibly choose wrong. And here Allison is, giving Five his first chance to have even a tiny part in his niece’s life, and that’s something he really does want.

“The yellow one,” Five blurts out. Allison looks down at him, surprised that he actually answered. “I like the yellow one.”

“Okay,” Allison says, immediately setting the chosen comforter in the cart. There’s something satisfying about getting to make a decision and knowing that there would be no life-altering consequences. It was just a bedspread.

“What’s next?”

From the way Allison’s eyes go even wider, he thinks he might have accidentally sounded almost eager, but he can’t really bring himself to care. Let Allison go ahead and try and tell the rest of their siblings that he got excited about decorating a child’s bedroom, it’s not like they’d believe her. And even if they did, what are they really learning about Five? That he cares about his niece? Okay. He does. There’s nothing wrong with that.

“Um, just a few more things here,” she says. “A lamp, I think, and some pillows. I’d like to try and find a rug as well, and maybe a few other decorations. And then we’ll go pick out paint.”

“You haven’t even picked out paint yet?”

“I wanted to make sure the paint would match with whatever else we picked out. Based on the bedspread you chose, I’m thinking blue, or maybe a nice purple. I’ll have to see then we get there.”

It takes them three hours to even make it to the other store to buy paint. Five does indeed fulfill his promised duty, carting the yellow comforter along with a simple lamp, two incredibly soft creme pillows, a fuzzy blue rug, and a round hanging mirror. Allison had also picked up a small nightlight at Five’s suggestion. He knows how dark it can get in those rooms late at night, and he doesn’t want Claire to ever feel swallowed up.

The paint choices, however, are even more extensive—Five had no idea there could be so many different colors and styles and types. He watches as Allison stalks back and forth between the blues and the purples, grabbing swatches and shoving them in Five’s face for his opinion.

“That one’s nice,” Five says, resisting the urge to grit his teeth. They’ve been here for way too long. “They’re all fine, Allison. Just pick one.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’ll just… I need to be right back. Almost done, I swear.”

“I don’t believe you,” he grumbles, but she’s already gone.

He paces up and down a wall of color paint cans, skimming his fingers across the swatches. All the rooms in the mansion are just painted the way they are as a result of whatever building they were a part of before their dad bought them all up. He’d still managed to use the rooms as manipulation tactics—which is why the room Vanya had been given was small and grey, while others, like Luther, Allison, and Five himself actually had colorful walls. There was no part of their lives that hadn’t been used by the old man to try and mold them into the complacent soldiers he’d so desperately wanted.

“Alright,” Allison says, hurrying back over to him. “I’m done. I’m sorry about that.”

“What color did you pick?” he asks.

She holds up a swatch of a pretty lavender color. He chokes back the complaint that it’s one of the first ones they looked at and nods.

“Can you help me carry the cans?” she asks.

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

Allison rolls her eyes and shoves the cans into his arms.

 

To be honest, Five doesn’t really know how he ended up here, in a semi-empty bedroom, rolling lavender paint onto the walls with his sister. Even without her rumors, his sister’s got some sort of power of persuasion. Either that or he’s just bored.

“When does she get here?” Five asks.

“Two weeks,” Allison says. She sounds practically giddy, and it makes Five smile. He’s proud of her for working so hard to turn her life around like this.

“What are you going to tell her?” he asks, continuing to carefully roll paint onto the wall.

“About what?”

“About this.” Five gestures to his teenage body, accidentally flicking paint onto his clothes.

“I suppose I’ll tell her the truth. Or at least, a PG version of it. It’s not like she doesn’t know about your powers.”

He blinks, surprised. “You told her about me?”

“Of course,” Allison says. “I told her about everyone.”

“But… I left.”

“You were still there, in the beginning, and you were an important part of my life. Besides, I missed you,” she says simply. “Seemed like a good way to at least honor your memory, and make sure my daughter knew you.”

“Oh.”

She glances over and seems to notice the way he’s frozen, trying to process what she’s saying. Her smile is soft and fond and Five is too overcome to squirm underneath it.

“She’ll be so excited to finally meet you.”

Five nods, his throat impossibly tight. “I… I can’t wait to meet her too.”

After awkwardly clearing his throat a few times and pointedly looking anywhere except at Allison, he crouches down to get an area on the wall near the floor. One good thing about this body is that his knees and back don’t ache constantly anymore. Allison stands on her toes, high above him, reaching up towards the ceiling. Paint drips down from her roller and into his hair, making him squawk in indignance.

“Hey!” Without thinking, he dips his fingers in the paint and flicks it in Allison’s direction.

She turns, deadly slow, to face him, her expression a stony mask. “Did you… just throw paint at me?”

Five grins his closed-mouth smile that Klaus is always saying is so terrifying. “Sure did.”

“You’re gonna regret that.” Allison seemingly can’t hold her neutral expression any longer, because she lunges at him with pure mischievous vengeance in her eyes.

Five jumps back, but not before Allison’s paint roller smacks his left arm, coating it in a thick layer of paint.

“This feels like a waste of paint,” he says slowly, watching Allison carefully as he waits for her to pounce again.

She grins wide, white teeth sparkling equal parts beautiful and terrifying. “Good thing I’m a rich movie star.”

And just like that, it’s an all-out battle. It’s the first time in a long, long time that Five has fought for fun and not for his life. Allison laughs the whole way through, reminding him that, _no, this isn’t the Commission here to kill you, this is your sister and this is fun._ Allison’s quick and smart, easily falling back into her childhood training, and it’s been a while since Five has sparred with any of his siblings so he might be a little rusty at predicting what she’s going to do. Still, Five’s got some tricks of his own and the ability to pop in and out of his sister’s reach in an instant.

Within five minutes, they’re both breathing hard and poised defensively in opposite corners of the room. Paint is everywhere—in Five’s hair, smeared across his cheek, rolled onto the front of his blazer, splattered across Allison’s chest, purple handprints littered up and down her arms and smacked right in the middle of her forehead.

“Have you calmed down yet?” Five asks.

“Me? You started this!” Allison says between trying to catch her breath.

“Uh, no,” Five counters. “You got paint on me first.”

“On accident! You’re the one who flicked it at me.”

Five shrugs. “It was warranted.”

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” Allison cocks her head to the side, stepping back into position for another round.

“Bring it on,” Five grins.

“Hey, Allison—” They both whirl towards the door and freeze when they see Vanya poking her head in. “Uh… Wha—”

“What’s up, Vanya?” Allison says quickly, straightening up and wiping her paint-covered hands on her pants.

“I was just… I was just going to make sure we were, uh, still on for dinner. Hey, what—”

“Absolutely,” Allison says. “Can’t wait. I’ll meet you downstairs at 6:00, yeah?”

Vanya stares just a little longer before nodding. “Just make sure you clean yourself up first,” she calls over her shoulder as she walks away.

“Well…” Allison starts. “That was embarrassing.”

Five has to agree. Now that their paint fight is over, it retroactively feels incredibly childish, and that’s not really the appearance he wants to give off to his siblings. At least it was Vanya that interrupted and not any of the others. At least she might let him live it down.

Five spatial jumps, landing in the bathroom. He pauses for a moment to take in his appearance in the mirror. It’s still weird, seeing himself so small and young; it’s not the form he actively associates with himself. His hair is a ruffed-up, paint-filled mess and there are smears of color _everywhere,_ but beneath it, he can see his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bright. There’s an ache in his cheeks that makes him think that he might have been actually smiling.

Genuine happiness is… an odd look on him.

“Hey,” Allison says, sliding into the bathroom. She immediately gets to work, pulling out a washcloth and soaking it in warm water from the tap.

Allison reaches over, swiping gently at Five’s face with the washcloth. He flinches back instinctively and she stops, lowering her arm.

“Sorry,” she says, having the decency to look sheepish. Five huffs and snatches the washcloth from her, cleaning the paint off of his face himself. “Wasn’t thinking.”

He nods, dismissing it, and keeps scrubbing at his skin. Allison grabs another cloth and starts working on the handprint on her forehead. Five smiles inwardly, he’s proud of that one. She’d reeled back and gaped like a fish while he blinked out of reach smugly. That had gotten him a paint roller to the back in retaliation, but it had been worth it.

Once their skin is relatively clean, they both end up perched on the side of the bathtub in silence.

“We did such a great job painting your daughter’s room,” Five says dryly.

Allison snorts. “Yeah. It’s alright. I’ve still got time to finish it up. I might have to go get more paint, though.”

“You’re on your own this time.”

“That’s fine,” she says. “I’ll probably get more done alone anyways, without any little brats attacking me.”

Five glowers.

“Sorry,” she amends. “ _Old_ brats. My bad.”

“It’s not better,” he huffs.

Allison laughs, clear and bright.

“Hey,” she says after a moment, shifting the air in the room to something more serious. “I’m sorry if it ever feels like I’m trying to mother you. I know you’re not a kid, and I want you to know that I really don’t mean to do it.”

“Well, soon it won’t matter. Claire will be back and you can mother her to your heart’s content.”

“That’s true.” Allison bites her lip and casts a sideways glance at her brother. “But… don’t think that’ll stop me from still caring about you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Believe it or not, Allison, I don’t actually want you to act like my mother.”

“I know,” she says. “I’m just… I know you’re fifty-eight, but you do still look thirteen, and… and it’s hard. I’m trying to find a happy medium between treating you the way you keep saying you want to be treated and wanting to look out for you, because you’re still my brother and I love you.”

He knows his siblings see him as a kid sometimes. A lot of the time. In a way, he can understand why. He was practically spat back into their lives after seventeen years looking exactly the same as he did when he disappeared.

But he’d thought that was the main reason: he looked like a kid. He’d never actually thought that maybe some of the stuff he saw as his family babying him was actually just them caring. He’s been alone for so long that he’s not sure if he remembers what affection really looks like.

He hadn’t realized that he needed someone to say it directly.

He needs to respond, right? That’s the appropriate thing to do here, let his sister know that he loves her too. He just… isn’t sure how to put it into words.

“For what it’s worth,” he starts softly, rolling his jaw as he gets a feel for the words. Allison glances in his direction. “I think Claire’s a really lucky kid. She could do a lot worse than having you for a mom.”

“Thank you, Five.” Allison’s voice is wobbly and watery and for a moment, Five thinks that he somehow said something wrong. He hadn’t meant to make her cry.

Damn. He’s screwed up hasn’t he. He really thought he was getting better, and here he goes and fucks it up again.

But then, he feels her fingers brush lightly over his, coming to rest just barely touching his hand. Oh. Happy tears then.

Five swallows hard and says what he knows is the proper response to those words. “You’re welcome.”

It speaks volumes for both of them.

 

* * *

 

Five is already at the coffeeshop when Vanya walks in. He’s been there for about half and hour, perched in what has become _their booth,_ pouring over a new book on theoretical physics. It was published April 2nd, 2019—the day after the apocalypse would have happened. In a way, he feels partially responsible for it getting made. It’s tangible proof that the apocalypse has been averted. Plus, the author has some really interesting things to say about quantum gravity.

“Hey,” Vanya says, sliding into the seat across from him.

Immediately, he dog-ears his page and closes the book, shoving it to the side so he can give Vanya is full attention. She smiles, following the action with her eyes. She’s spent too much of her life taking the backseat to whatever the rest of her siblings were doing; Five wants to make sure that, now more than ever, Vanya knows that he will always do his best to make time for her.

That’s part of what sparked their bi-weekly coffeeshop meetings.

(The other part is that Five genuinely missed his sister, and this one-on-one interaction is the best way for him to reconnect with her.)

“Have you ordered yet?”

Five shakes his head. “No, I was waiting for you.”

“Right,” she says with a nod. “I’ll order for us. What number are we on?”

“Seven,” Five answers. They’ve been slowly and meticulously drinking their way through the café’s entire menu. Vanya, growing up in a strictly caffeine-free household, has never had the chance to really try anything other than some cheap, shitty stuff from the grocery store. Five had felt that it was his obligation to inform her that she was drinking garbage.

For Five, it was more like an experiment. When he was younger, he had a huge sweet tooth whenever he had the opportunity. But after years of surviving on scraps (and one horrible Twinkie), he has a harder time stomaching it. This is like a test, to see if he can ever find something that resembles more of his childhood tastes. So far, they’ve been fairly unsuccessful, but Five likes the routine and the opportunity to spend time with Vanya, so he never complains.

Vanya gets back up and goes to the counter to order, but Five doesn’t pick his book back up. Instead, he watches the window, looking out at the street.

It’s still a foreign feeling, being able to look around and see people everywhere he goes. A lot of the time, it starts to feel overwhelming—they’re too loud and make the world too crowded and busy. It makes his skin crawl and his stomach churn when he has to spend too long in a crowd.

But the café is quiet and cozy, part of the reason he and Vanya chose it. The seats are a hodgepodge of comfortable, warn-in armchairs and booths, and soft classical music drifts throughout the room. Here, he can people watch without it getting to be too much. He lets himself get lost watching mundane people go about their mundane lives.

“Here we go,” Vanya says, snapping him out of his trance. She sets down the mugs and slides one over to Five. In the center of the table on a little plate is a large blueberry muffin, which Five assumes must be the seventh pastry item on the menu. They’ll probably run out of those pretty soon and have to start circling through, which he thinks will probably create some interesting combinations.

Five brings the mug up to his nose and takes a careful sniff. “What is this?” he asks when he can’t place it.

“White chocolate mocha,” Vanya replies. “Hopefully it’s not too sweet for you, although I wouldn’t hold out hope. Sorry.”

Five just shrugs. The whole point is to maybe find something different that he might like. In a way, it’s like he’s trying to reclaim something else that the apocalypse stole from him, and if he’s good at anything, it’s fighting back against the apocalypse.

Plus, Vanya wanted to do it, and he wasn’t about to say no to her.

Thank you, Luther, for surprisingly not caring that they’re wasting the funds Dad left to keep the Umbrella Academy going on coffee. Maybe his brother is finally starting to get his priorities straight.

“How was your day with Allison?” Vanya asks, grinning knowingly.

Five shrugs. “Not as bad as I anticipated.”

Vanya nods, her smile softening. “I think she had a really good time. She seemed happy when we went to dinner.”

“I mean, she’s a step closer to seeing her daughter again. She’s bound to be happy about that.”

“Of course,” Vanya says, but the way she smiles, he feels as if he’s missing something. He doesn’t love that, but he also doesn’t want to ask for an explanation, so he lets it be, choosing instead to change the conversation.

“Diego thinks I need a hobby,” Five says, sipping his coffee. He wrinkles his nose—Vanya’s right, it is a bit sweet. He’ll order a black coffee in a few minutes and get the rest of this to-go. Klaus will drink it.

Vanya hums. “I mean, it probably would be good for you.”

“I was thinking…” he starts, picking at the hem of his sweater and avoiding his sister’s gaze.

“Yeah?” she prompts.

He takes a deep breath and looks up at her. “What about music?”

Vanya blinks, obviously surprised. “Like an instrument?”

“Yeah. It’s just… It’s something new to learn, a new challenge, and… and I wouldn’t have to find some random person to put up with me because I already have an amazingly talented sister who just so happens to give lessons.”

“You—you want to learn violin?”

Five shrugs. “Why not? Unless… Do you—do you think it’s a bad idea?” Or worse, does she not want to teach him? He has to admit, he’ll probably be a dreadful student, but he’d figured Vanya would be able to deal with him better than some stranger, and willing to put up with more because they’re family.

“No, no!” Vanya reaches across the table to rest her hand on top of his. He lets her. He’s getting better at that stuff, as long as it’s not a surprise or anything too overwhelming. “I think it’s a great idea, Five,” she continues. Something that he thinks might just be pride shines in her eyes. It makes him feel like preening. “I would be happy to teach you.”

“Really?” he asks, embarrassed to hear his voice sound so small. “You’re not just saying that? Because you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I mean, violin is your thing, and… I can find something else. You know what—”

“Five,” she smiles gently, cutting him off, “it’s a great idea. I would love to teach you.” His sister squeezes his hand once before retreating back to her side. She’s the best of all his siblings at knowing Five’s limits when it comes to contact. It takes him back to when they were kids and they knew each other well enough to have complete conversations without their words.

“Don’t tell the others,” Five says. If they find out, they’ll start teasing him, and he’s not sure if he can go through with this if his siblings are laughing at him behind his back. He remembers back when Vanya first started learning, scratching out what could only barely be considered music. He knows it’s the first step in the process. He knows everyone starts out that way—just look at Vanya and how far she’s come. If _she_ started out sounding like a dying cat, he would surely be even worse. None of the rest of his siblings are allowed to hear him until he’s well past the early squeaky phase.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Five, I… I’m just really excited about this. This is great. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he whispers, the word sticking heavily in his throat.

“Of course. You’re about to get black coffee, aren’t you,” she says, watching the way Five scowls at the mocha upon taking a second sip. He’s glad for the change in subject.

“Yes,” he says, dropping the mug on the table with a thump and getting to his feet.

“Don’t forget to ask for a to-go cup,” she calls after him.

They better give him this damn black coffee, thirteen-year-old body or not. He’s earned it.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, shortstack,” Klaus says, flopping down on the couch beside Five. His head lands close to Five’s knee, so he shoves him away. Klaus flails around a bit before tumbling onto the floor with a grunt.

He pops up in an instant, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as he fake-pouts.

“Is that any way to treat your favorite brother?”

Five scoffs. “When have I ever referred to you as my favorite?”

“It was implied,” Klaus says, slumping back down on the couch, this time upright and leaving adequate space for Five to breathe. “I could see it in your eyes.”

“Hm, well maybe I’m not the only one who needs to work on my people skills, since you obviously don’t know what _disdain_ and _minimal tolerance_ look like.”

“Ouch.” Klaus clutches dramatically at his chest. “You wound me.”

“You’ll get over it,” Five says, rolling his eyes. “Now, are we doing this, or what?”

Klaus grins. “You want drama or romcom?”

“Drama,” Five answers immediately.

Klaus tuts. “You should stop putting off all the rom coms, Fivey. We agreed to watch all of our talented sister’s wonderful films, so you’re just setting yourself up for a romcom marathon.”

“We’ll see if I even watch those,” Five grumbles.

Klaus gasps dramatically. “Five! You promised to watch all of them. Don’t let me down.”

“I think you’ll live if I miss a couple sappy films.”

“Don’t let Allison down, then.”

“Allison doesn’t care.”

“I don’t know about that. I think this would mean a lot to her.”

“Can you just play the damn movie, Klaus?”

“Yeah, yeah. So snippy.”

“What the hell are you two doing?” Five turns to see Diego standing in the doorway, decked out in his pajamas. “It’s 4:00 a.m.”

Five shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. Neither could Klaus. We’re watching a movie.”

Diego narrows his eyes. “Do you two do this often?”

“Yep!” Klaus grins, answering before Five can respond. “Five loves to spend time with his favorite brother. Isn’t that right?”

Five nods this time. “I do enjoy spending time with Ben.”

Diego cracks a half smile as Klaus hisses in outrage.

“Still,” Diego says, “you guys should at least try and sleep.”

“Why are you up then?” Five snaps back.

“I could hear you from my room. You woke me up!”

“Sounds like a personal problem.” Five shrugs. In the background, the movie starts up.

“That’s—” Diego leans around Klaus to look at the TV. “Is this Allison’s movie? The one about the lawyer?”

“It sure is!” Klaus says. “Care to join us?”

“No. Just keep it down, will you?”

Five doesn’t move his gaze from Diego’s as he points the remote at the TV and cranks up the volume. Diego growls and lunges for the remote, but Five simply blinks to the other side of the couch.

“Damn—Five! You’re going to wake up the whole house.” He turns it up two more notches.

“Vanya’s not here,” Klaus says, “so he doesn’t care.” Five grins. He’s not wrong.

“Okay, how about this then,” Diego says. “You wake up Allison and she comes down to see you watching her movie, she’s going to realize you actually have feelings.”

“It’s just a movie,” Five grumbles. “It doesn’t mean anything. Just something to do.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Klaus says. “This was all his idea. The little guy secretly loves us.”

“Don’t call me _little guy,_ ” Five snaps.

“Ah! But that’s the only part he denies. _Five looooooves us!_ ” Klaus dances around singsong, narrowly avoiding the remote that Five hurls in his direction. Diego scoops it up and promptly turns the volume back down to an acceptable level.

“You’re missing the movie, idiots,” Diego says. Five turns back to the TV just in time to see Allison walk onto the screen.

“Shut up and get out, Diego,” he huffs, turning his back on his brother.

“You heard him,” Klaus agrees, slumping down next to Five. “Scram, bro. Allison movie marathons are for the insomnia club only.”

“That’s not healthy,” Diego says. “You need sleep.”

Klaus waves him off. “It’s fine. Five usually passes out halfway through anyway.”

Five scowls but doesn’t argue because unfortunately, he’s not wrong. The soft sounds of the movie and the steady presence of another person in the room make it a lot harder for his brain to scream _you’re back in the apocalypse_ in his nightmares.

“What about you?” Diego asks Klaus.

“Don’t worry, he falls asleep too,” Five answers.

“Sometimes,” Klaus corrects.

Diego grunts. “Better than nothing. I’ll take it. I’m going back to bed. Keep it down, alright?”

“Every time you say that it makes me want to turn it up louder,” Five calls after Diego’s retreating back. His very mature brother flips him the bird.

With Diego out of the picture, he turns his full attention back to the movie. He’d read a bit about Allison’s career in Vanya’s book, always wishing he’d gotten a chance to see some of her work—he’d missed out on seeing all his siblings grow up. Now that he’s back and the apocalypse has been averted, he’s ready to see everything he missed out on. This is just one thing on a long list of aspects of his siblings’ lives that he finally gets to catch up on.

He’s not a huge fan of the movie itself, but he gets a flutter of something warm and comfortable in his stomach every time Allison appears onscreen. He’s barely even paying attention to the plot, focusing instead on the way Allison commands each scene, confidence radiating out of her with every line. He knows it was a rocky path that she took to get there, but he’s still proud of her. This was her dream growing up, and he’s glad she at least got to live it, even if she would eventually decide that she wanted something completely different.

He’s proud of her performance, and he’s even more proud of how much she’s grown.

He’s proud of how much they’ve all grown.

Klaus is watching the movie with rapt attention, which means he was probably having a particularly bad night and is trying to distract himself away. Five scooches a little closer to his brother, hoping to provide some comfort by proximity. He knows Klaus is pretty touchy-feely, knows it stems partially from his need to make sure that the people around him are actually alive. He’s not quite there yet, personally, but he thinks Klaus respects his boundaries.

Five lets his knee bump lightly against Klaus’s, staring straight ahead and pretending to ignore the dopey look on his brother’s face when he does.

“Watch the movie, dipshit,” he grumbles.

“You can’t fool me, Five,” Klaus whispers.

He's not exactly trying to, because yeah, he loves them. Whatever. It's not a big deal.


	2. i miss your face like hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not adorable.” Sniff. “I’m a very deadly assassin. I could kill you right now, Ben.”  
> Ben reaches out and pats Five on the head twice. “I’m sure you could."

Vanya takes him to a little music shop near the school where she works sometimes. They know her there, and are kind enough to offer her a discount on a violin rental for Five. She helps guide him to tuck the instrument under his chin, instructing him to stick his arm out straight under the neck.

“Great news,” Vanya says. “You get to use a full-size.”

Five bristles at the idea that he might _not_ have been big enough for a full-size, looking around at the instruments hanging on the wall, some of which were so small he’d initially thought they were toys.

“I’m not a child.”

“It’s not about your age, Five,” she says gently. “It’s more arm length and hand size. Most of my students don’t use full-sizes. You might actually be the only one.”

For some reason, that makes a smile tug at his lips. It’s irrational to feel proud about having slightly longer arms than Vanya’s elementary-age students, and yet here he is.

Vanya helps him get set up with all the trappings and accessories—rosin for his bow (the fancy kind, wrapped up in a cloth, rather than the little cardboard boxes that little kids get), a shoulder rest, extra stings that Vanya promises to show him how to put on later, a tuner/metronome combo, and a cloth to wipe off the excess rosin from the instrument. She shows him how to tighten and loosen the bow and how to store it in the case. She tells him about the little hygrometer built into the lining of the case and explains how humidity and temperature can affect the instrument.

He drinks it all in, absorbing every last detail and nodding with pointed seriousness to make sure she knew he was listening and taking everything seriously.

Vanya is in her element, all gentle smiles and kind, enthusiastic explanations. Her eyes light up and crinkle around the edges, and every single thing she says just sounds so natural. His sister is smart and passionate and knowledgeable, and he can already tell she’s going to be an excellent teacher. (He makes no such promises about being a good student.)

They have their first lesson that afternoon, and there’s surprisingly little actual playing. Mostly, he learns how to hold the damn thing properly. Vanya helps get the instrument into the right position under his chin and his fingers into the right shape on the bow. Mostly she instructs verbally, but occasionally, just before Five can get frustrated at the fact that he’s not quite getting it, she gently guides him with feather-light touches on his hands and his neck and his arms, asking for permission each time. He appreciates that. Immensely.

She takes thin strips of tape, laying them across the fingerboard and using them to show the correct placement of fingerings. He hadn’t wanted to admit that staring at the blank fingerboard had been daunting, and Vanya assures him that this is how everyone starts out and eventually he won’t need them because it’ll all be muscle memory.

That’s when it hits him, the commitment he’s making to this new task. It takes years to learn the violin, and even longer to get anywhere near mastery. It’s dedication to a craft, and commitment to his sister.

He loves it. He loves the solidity of it, the new roots it gives him. The idea makes him feel… stable.

He lets his fingers ghost over the tapes beneath the strings, a smile spreading across his face.

The lesson then morphs into music theory, as Vanya explains tempo and note value and what all the crazy symbols mean. Although it doesn’t come super naturally to him—there’s just so many brand new pieces to try and deal with—it’s very mathematical, and he enjoys the way everything swims around in his mind before eventually slotting into the right place.

His tone when he tries to play however, is _abysmal._ Vanya is trying to hide her cringes behind smiles and overeager encouragement, but he can see the twitch in her shoulders each time the bow screeches especially harshly.

“It’s alright, Five,” she says gently, watching him pack up when they’re done. “It was your first day. It was a good first day. Really.”

He snaps the case shut and rolls his eyes. “It’s okay, Van. You don’t have to lie to me. I’m not a child. I can take it.”

“I’m serious,” she says, setting her hand one the handle of his case, her fingers just a millimeter or two away from his. “I’m really proud of you, Five. You did a great job today.”

He turns away, hoping she can’t see the sudden flush in his cheeks. “Same time next week?”

“Sounds great. Try and take a look at some of the rhythms in this book, alright?” She tucks a practice book for beginner violinists into the pocket in the case. “And practice your note reading.”

He nods absently, attention drifting to the window. Sometime during the lesson, it had started raining, gentle and steady. Vanya notices and smiles softly, coming over to stand beside him.

“I was going to take a cab over for dinner tonight, but we can walk if you want.”

“You don’t have to walk with me,” he says, his gaze never leaving the window.

Vanya shrugs. “I don’t mind. A walk sounds nice. Just let me grab my coat and an umbrella and we can go.” She doesn’t offer him one; she knows he won’t want to use it.

Five remembers the first time it rained after he came back—not including the day of the funeral; everything he did those first few days was a blur of stress and working both his mind and his body into the ground. It was a week after the supposed end of the world and he and Vanya had been leaving their coffeeshop for the first time. Vanya had cursed under her breath at the feeling of those first few drops and scrambled to pull her jacket up over her head before it really started coming down.

Five, on the other hand, had been frozen, face tilted up at the sky, a ghost of a smile flickering across his face. The rain was cold, but not biting enough to sting.

It was amazing.

In the apocalypse, the air had been dry and scorching, filled constantly with free-floating ash. Fires had raged for years, scorching and drying out his skin, the ash coating the inside of his lungs and mouth and throat, suffocating him. When the weather did change—morphing into blizzards and raging storms—it had been an even bigger fight for survival. Every last piece of the apocalypse was designed to kill him with no chance for any sort of real rest, no “easy” part, no actual living—just adaptation and survival.

This rain, pattering against his skin, soaking through his clothes, rolling down his cheeks, he realized in that moment is the greatest feeling in the world. It makes him feel alive. There’s only a small list of things that do that for him—coffee sometimes, spending time with his siblings, the hustle and bustle of a wholly-populated world (although that’s almost too much of a reminder—exhausting and overwhelming, leaving him irritable and shaky), but it’s the rain that feels so natural, so simple and _pure._

He’d loved it from the feeling of that first drop on his skin and that feeling has yet to fade. It’s like a wake-up call, the exact reminder he needs, when even his family isn’t enough. In the apocalypse, they were some of his more commonplace hallucinations and he could still sometimes never be sure if they were real or not.

The rain isn’t like that. He can’t really hallucinate that feeling if he tries.

He can’t wait to step out into it. The violin lesson, while enjoyable in its own way, had also been confusing and frustrating.

He shoots Vanya a quick grin and grabs his violin before blinking down to the main door of the building. He’s standing under the awning, since the rain does tend to mess with his jump trajectory, taking a moment to listen to the sound it makes as it strikes the material above his head. He moves to step out from under it just as Vanya exits the building but stops suddenly, jumping back hastily and hugging his violin case to his chest.

“Is it—Can it get wet?” he asks, nodding at the instrument in his arms.

Vanya nods, smirking slightly. “It’ll be fine. The case will protect it.”

He lets out a relieved breath and nods once. “Good. Alright, let’s go.”

They step out onto the sidewalk, Five mock-scowling when Vanya nearly pokes his eye out opening her umbrella.

 

* * *

 

“I never would have pegged you as the overdramatic one. I thought Klaus had a monopoly.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Five sets his book down upon his brother’s appearance, the only one he would do it for.

“Oh really?” Ben rolls his eyes, leaning against the wall. “You said nothing at all when you were literally bleeding out, but one little cold has you acting like you’re dying.”

“How’d you know about that?”

“I know everything.”

Five huffs a laugh and looks up at his ghostly brother. It’s not the first time he’s seen Ben corporal since Icarus Theatre, but it knocks the air of his chest each time. Klaus has been getting better and better at making him solid for longer and longer periods of time.

“Did they send you to bug me because you can’t die again?”

“Nah,” Ben makes his way over the bed, and Five shifts to make room for him to sit down. “I know you’re not that sick, even if you are ridiculously grumpy like this.”

“I’m dying, Ben. Cut me some slack.”

“You are not. And this is what I mean by dramatic—telling your literal dead brother that you’re dying just because you have a stuffy nose.”

Five chews his lip. “Sorry. That was insensitive.”

Ben waves him off. “No, no. Don’t worry about it. I’ve heard all the jokes from Klaus already.”

“If it makes it any better, I don’t just have a stuffy nose. My head is also killing me.”

“Well, maybe that’s because you’re trying to read about,” Ben leans over him and grabs the book Five had been reading, lifting it to see the cover, “quantum physics when you have a head cold. Try some fiction for once, man.”

Five wrinkles his nose and sniffs. “Why?”

Ben laughs at him, making Five scowl even harder. “Because you’re sick, and tired, and if there were ever a time for you to chill out and enjoy reading for fun and not for some mission.”

“I happen to enjoy reading about quantum physics, Ben.”

Ben flips through the pages. “Page 54, huh? Have you retained any of the information from the first 53 pages?”

As an answer, Five levels him with his most intimidating glare. Then he sneezes, and Ben laughs at him again.

“You sneeze like a kitten!”

“Shut up, Ben. How do you even know what a kitten sounds like? Have you ever seen a kitten?”

“Have you?” Ben shoots back. “Fine. I don’t know if you sneeze like a kitten, but you _do_ have an adorable sneeze, which could sound like any number of baby animals.”

“I’m not adorable.” _Sniff._ “I’m a very deadly assassin. I could kill you right now, Ben.”

Ben reaches out and pats Five on the head twice. “I’m sure you could. I’m going to get you a different book, something actually interesting.”

“This _is_ interesting,” Five says, grappling weakly with Ben for his book. His ghostly brother snatches it away, depositing it on the shelf across the room.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and then he’s gone.

Five picks at his blanket as he waits for his brother to return. He’s been hiding out up here for three days now, snapping at any of his siblings that dare to bother him while he’s so tired and uncomfortable, but the moment Ben leaves, he can’t wait for him to come back. Maybe it’s pathetic, missing his brother in the few minutes he’s not in the room, but he feels like he’s a little bit entitled, considering the fact that Ben’s actually dead.

“ _Harry Potter,_ ” Ben says, stepping back into Five’s room and holding the book up. “Klaus stole it from a library for me a while back.”

“What’s it about?” Five croaks.

“This kid who discovers he’s a wizard and goes to wizard school.”

“That sounds stupid.”

“It’s like the most popular book series of all time!”

“Popular things can be bad.”

“Well, I like them. Just give it a try, will you? If you’re bored, you can just go to sleep.”

“So that’s your big plan, then? To bore me to sleep?”

Ben shrugs. “Either you like the book and we get to talk about it, because Klaus is lame and refuses to read them, or you hate it and just go to sleep, which is great because you need to rest way more. I’m good either way.”

“What if I just go back to my own book?”

“You’re going to make me, your poor dead brother, _leave_ so you can pretend to understand this book that you’re just going to reread in a week anyway?”

“Playing the dead card? You’re a brat.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk. As far as I’m concerned, Five Hargreeves wrote the book on being a brat.”

“Shut it, Ben. Fine. I’ll read your damn Henry Pattern book.”

“That’s not—Whatever. I’ll take what I can get.”

Ben sits right beside him, leaning against the headboard with their shoulders touching. Normally, Five would reject the contact as too overwhelming, but this is _Ben,_ and he’s mostly just reveling in the fact that Ben is actually here and solid. He never thought he’d get to see Ben again, and thanks to Klaus he’s almost alive again, even if it’s only for short increments.

He opens up the book, then notices Ben craning his neck to lean over Five’s shoulder and try to read. Five raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Ben says. “It’s a good book.”

“Do you want to read it then?”

“Sure,” Ben says, then he plucks the book straight from Five’s hand and settles it in his own lap.

“Wha—” Five grabs at it, but Ben holds it up and out of his reach, shushing him.

“Lay down.” Ben pushes at Five’s shoulder, giving him no choice but to curl up on his side and scowl up at his brother. “I’ll read to you.”

“I’m not a child, Ben.”

“Shh.” Ben shoves his hand over Five’s mouth to physically stop his protests. “Now, where was I? Right. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…”

 

“Klaus is wearing out,” he hears Ben murmur after a while. Five had stopped listening to the story a while ago, instead just letting himself drift off to the sound of Ben’s voice. “I’m going to disappear soon, but I’ll still be here. I’ll always be here for you, Five.”

Five grumbles, not even strong enough to open his eyes and look at his brother one last time before he fades away for a while. Instead he throws out a clumsy hand in Ben’s general direction, smiling when Ben gets the memo and latches on.

“Have a good nap, Five. This was nice. We’ll do it again sometime, okay?”

Five hums. If Ben wants to, he won’t protest too much. Just for Ben, of course.

 

* * *

 

Five wakes up on the couch, a location that, due to far too many sleepless nights, is quickly becoming just as familiar as his bedroom—which might be troubling, but he’s got other, more important things going on. Klaus is still asleep, sprawled across three quarters of the couch and leaving Five to curl up tightly against the other arm. The TV is stuck on the menu screen, playing the same scene on repeat and casting flickering light throughout the room.

But Five doesn’t actually register any of that. He doesn’t see anything but smoke, gasping and heaving as he tastes the ash burning in his lungs. It chokes him, coats his tongue and fills his mouth, making it impossible to breathe, let alone cry out his siblings’ names.

Not that they’d respond. They’re dead. All of them. Everyone is.

“No,” he gasps. The words he’s been mouthing, the ones he couldn’t quite get out, finally spill from his lips as spluttering gasps. “No, I can’t—”

“Five?” There’s a face floating in his vision, looking lost and confused. One of the dead then, probably one of his siblings. They don’t understand why they’re dead. They don’t understand why Five abandoned them, why he let them die.

He curls in tighter on himself, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t do this again. He can’t. He can’t survive another forty years, not alone. He can’t face these nightmare hallucinations of his family. How many times can he apologize for failing them? What else can he do? He didn’t mean to leave. He tried to save them, he tried so hard.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ve already told you… I—I know I failed, okay? Please—please go away. Go…”

“Five!”

There are hands on him. Hands on his wrists, hands on his shoulders, hands on his head. He tosses and thrashes, trying to get away from them.

They’re getting persistent. They’ve never touched him before.

They’ve never touched him before.

Five freezes, blinking rapidly and trying to make sense of his surroundings. He doesn’t understand where he is, but he’s also beginning to think that it might not be the apocalypse.

They’ve never touched him before. They’ve never tried to comfort him before.

He counts two separate sets of hands touching him. The set on his shoulders are warm, full of life. They squeeze tightly, firmly, shaking him slightly. The other pair clutch at his hands, holding them still. They’re cold but soft, not stiff and decaying—poor circulation rather than dead and lifeless.

His hand is pressed against someone’s chest. He can feel them breathing, feel their heart beating beneath his palm. Alive.

“Klaus?” he rasps.

His brother nods. “Right here, Five. I’m alive, you’re alive, everyone’s alive. Diego’s here too. Say hi!”

Five twists to blink up at Diego who’s standing next to where Klaus kneels beside the couch. Diego’s the one holding his shoulders. He smiles down at Five but there’s heavy concern painted across his features.

“Hi, Diego,” Five says softly, still feeling out of it. His head is stuffed with cotton.

“Hi, Five. Welcome back.”

Five looks around, actually seeing his surroundings for the first time. “What time is it?”

“About 5:00 am,” Diego answers.

“Sorry,” Five mumbles. His siblings have told him multiple times to stop apologizing for having problems like this, but still. His brothers are up at 5:00 am because of Five, and maybe that’s too far of a reach for Diego, it’s certainly not Klaus’s normal (and admittedly unhealthy) hours.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Klaus immediately reprimands. “None of that. We’ve been over this.”

“Woke you up.”

Klaus shrugs. “Could be worse. Just means we’re getting a head start for the day. Diego and I were about to go grab some pre-sunrise breakfast—”

“We were? I mean, whatever. Yeah. Sure. I guess that’s what we’re doing.”

“—if you want to join us?”

Five nods, detangling himself from his brothers’ hold. It’s not like he’s going back to sleep now.

“Great.” Klaus yawns loudly then turns to grin broadly at Five. “Go grab your shoes, little man, and we’ll go.”

Five scowls at _little man,_ but stumbles to feet to go find his shoes. He glances down at the Academy-sanctioned pajama set he’s decked out in and frowns. “In our pajamas?”

“Sure, why not! That’s part of the fun.”

“Klaus, you need a shirt,” Diego says.

“But then it’s not breakfast in pajamas,” Klaus whines.

“It’s not breakfast at all if they won’t let us in the door. Just go get decent.”

Five gets his shoes on and jumps into the passenger seat of Diego’s car. His brothers are bound to figure out where he went. Normally, he would try and be the one to drive, but he feels shaky and exhausted, and he’s enough of an adult to admit that Diego is less likely to run them into a pole at this moment. He slumps against the dirty window, waiting for Diego and Klaus to hurry up so they can go.

Five isn’t really sure where they’re going. He’s been slowly getting accustomed to not only living in a world with other human beings and standing buildings, but a place that’s simultaneously seventeen years in his future and decades in his past. With the exception of Griddy’s, since they used to sneak out and go there as kids, and it really hasn’t changed all that much, most of the stores and shops are foreign to him.

Diego pulls up to a diner he’s never been to before, although Klaus seems excited, and Diego seems comfortably familiar. In fact, he and Klaus head immediately for a booth in the corner without any sort of debate or communication, so Five thinks they’ve definitely been here before. Klaus and Diego sit on the same side of the booth, leaving Five plenty of his own space in the other seat. That’s probably not their typical seating arrangement, and Five appreciates the thought.

A tired but smiling waitress comes over to their table. There’s only three other people in the diner at the moment; a couple at a table across the room and a man by himself, reading a book.

“Hi,” she says. “What can I get for you this morning?”

“I’ll take the spinach and sausage omelette,” Diego says, never even picking up the menu unlike Klaus. “And a water.”

“Uh, I’ll have the waffles,” Klaus says.

Diego rolls his eyes. “Why do you even bother looking at the menu if you’re just going to get waffles every time?”

The waitress writes Klaus’s order down with a chuckle, turning to Five. “And for you?”

“Black coffee,” Five says.

“You need food too, Five,” Diego scolds. “He’ll also take the blueberry pancakes. And a water. Thanks.”

Five scowls at him as the waitress leaves to put in their order. “I’m not hungry.”

Klaus shakes his head. “He’s right. You need to eat. Most important meal of the day and all that shit.”

“I’ve made it this far without worrying about all that.”

“Yeah, well, Diego’s buying, so you should take advantage.”

Diego glares. “You’re eating through all my boxing ring money, Klaus.”

“Just me? What about Five?!”

“Five doesn’t eat enough as it is,” Diego says with a shrug. “Somehow it’s become my job to keep him from trying to subside solely on coffee. Even Vanya feeds his habit.”

“Vanya’s almost as bad as me,” Five says.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Klaus says. “Anyway, why don’t you just use dear dead Dad’s massive fortune, Diego? It’s not like he’s using it anymore.”

“I don’t want anything from that man,” Diego scowls. “I’d rather earn my own way.”

“Really? I’d rather steal from him. It’s way more fun. Have you ever heard of fun, Diego?”

“I’m here, aren’t I? And in my pajamas, no less.”

“I am impressed with you there, bro. To be honest, I thought you slept in that horrible leather getup.”

Diego glances over at Five and frowns. “We really need to get you some more clothes.”

Five looks down. “They’re just pajamas, Diego. It doesn’t matter what they look like.”

“Well, we need to get you out of that terrible uniform at the very least,” Klaus adds.

He shrugs. “I’d rather keep wearing the uniform than spend the day at the mall with you.” Actually, he’d rather just skip the mall altogether. From what he’s heard, they tend to get crowded, and Five doesn’t do well in crowds.

“I’m sure Allison would take you if you asked,” Diego suggests. “Of course you’d have to catch her while she’s here. I wouldn’t want to go with Klaus either though.”

“My own brothers!” Klaus gasps. “Traitors.”

“I don’t know if that’s the right use of the word traitor,” Diego says. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t betray you, I just don’t think that it’s technically accurate here.”

Five hides his grin behind his mug, listening to his brothers bicker back and forth for the majority of the morning, interjecting occasionally. The pancakes are pretty good, even if Klaus ends up eating half of his plate for him while Diego scolds them both.

Despite the rough start, it’s not a bad morning. Five actually likes spending time with his brothers.

As they step out into the early morning, the first few drops of rain hit the pavement around them until one splashes right on Five’s nose.

Diego and Klaus turn to glance at each other. “You walking, Five?” Diego asks as they reach the car.

Five nods.

“Right. See you at home.”

(Five likes that too. _Home._ )

 

He starts towards the Academy, the walk loosening his still sleep-stiff muscles. The rain doesn’t really pick up, just spitting occasionally down from the clouds overhead. It’s probably for the best, considering the fact that he’s still in his pajamas.

He’s about half a mile from the Academy when he hears it: a small whimper, coming from a nearby alley. Five stiffens, immediately readying himself for a fight. He mentally curses Diego for taking back the knives Five stole from him (and Luther for not letting him carry a gun), but he doesn’t need a weapon—Five _is_ a weapon, whether he likes it or not.

He follows the sound when he hears it again, all of his childhood superhero training kicking in. He looks around the alley for an attacker, or at the very least, someone injured and in need of help, but he finds nothing.

“Who’s there?” Five calls, frowning.

Another whimper. He turns toward the sound, seeing only the wall. Then, something bumps into his leg and Five blinks back, falling into a defensive crouch, fists at the ready.

He blinks, looking down at his attacker and instantly feeling ridiculous. It’s a dog.

Or, not so much a dog as a puppy. A dirty, scraggly, little thing with floppy ears and matted fur. And it’s wagging its tail at Five.

Five has never actually been this close to a dog before, so he stands there, frozen, as the dog bounds up to him, stepping on his shoes with it’s muddy puppy feet and butting it’s head against his legs. He reaches down, planning to push it off of his feet, but the thing has other plans. The puppy presses its little head against the palm of Five’s hand, forcing him to pet it. When Five doesn’t make a move to do any more, the puppy turns, stumbling over his feet as it attempts to rub against his legs before eventually toppling over to lay down half on the ground, half leaning against Five.

Tentatively, Five scratches at its head and the puppy yips happily, rolling over to stand and look up at Five. Five isn’t sure if dogs can smile like humans, but that’s almost what this one looks like it’s doing. Five smiles back without meaning to, then catches himself. He’s about to return to his default scowl so he can tell the little monster to go away, but then something Vanya said to him rings out in his head.

_“If something makes you smile, you should explore it more. You deserve to find things that make you happy, Five, genuinely happy.”_

She’d been talking about the rain, but it sticks out to him now. The dog has no collar, and it looks as though this alleyway is its home. Five knows a lot about survival. He knows what it’s like to be young and alone and no one deserves that.

If his family can handle having Five around with all his issues and fucked up habits, then surely they can handle a puppy.

 

* * *

 

Five’s plan is to take the dog back to the house with him, but it squirms in his arms after just a few moments of being held. He holds on tighter, since he’s worried that it’ll run away the moment he sets it down and gets a paw to the face for his efforts. The dog isn’t upset, just playful and restless, but it takes all of Five’s effort and balance to manage the rest of the walk with the little guy in his arms.

It’s still fairly early, so most of his siblings are probably asleep. He spots the note Diego left about going to breakfast on the refrigerator, so he and Klaus must not be back yet, which means Klaus is probably using Diego as a free taxi service to do whatever it is that Klaus does. Maybe Five should pay a bit more attention.

Five walks the dog—which he decided during the journey home to call Mr. Pennycrumb—up to his room and promptly dumps him on the floor, shutting the door so he can’t run around just yet. Five jumps to the bathroom, grabs a towel, and jumps back. Mr. Pennycrumb whimpers, then yips happily upon seeing Five. Maybe people disappearing into thin air takes some getting used to for dogs as well as humans.

He towel dries Mr. Pennycrumb, trying to get as much of the mud and rain off of him as possible, but he’ll need a proper bath soon. The moment he releases the puppy, he jumps up on Five’s bed, curling up at the foot of it and yawning a loud little puppy yawn. Five’s smile returns at the sound and he reaches down to scratch behind one of Mr. Pennycrumb’s ears as he closes his eyes.

“Stay right here, Mr. Pennycrumb,” Five says. “I’ll be back soon.”

The puppy is asleep before he blinks back out of the mansion.

He knows where the pet store is because of Luther, oddly enough. Five had been bored one day, so when Luther asked him to drive him somewhere, Five had gone along with it, although he does think that the rest of his siblings should learn to drive. They can’t all depend on Five, Allison, and Diego, especially considering the fact that Allison occasionally flies back to L.A., and will probably start spending even more time there soon.

Luther had gone to a pet store about ten minutes away, and Five had followed him in because he was curious. It had been a busy place, with a few too many people and animals for Five’s comfort, so he’d hung up front near the door until Luther was ready to go. They left with an aquarium, a ton of fish food, and three fish that looked extraordinary tiny and vulnerable in Luther’s hands.

Five jumps, finding himself standing outside of the very same pet store. It’s only just opened, the place virtually empty with the exception of the lone sales associate. She yawns and nods at Five when he walks past which is just fine with him. He’s not one for small talk with strangers.

Five grabs a basket and makes a beeline for the dog aisle, grabbing what he hopes are the essentials—collar, leash, food and water dishes, a big bag of food for puppies. He pauses at the end where there are a variety of colorful toys. He doesn’t want anything that squeaks because that’ll drive him up the wall, but there’s a fuzzy blue teddy bear that’s bigger than Mr. Pennycrumb’s head, and he grabs it on impulse, not really knowing why, although imagining the puppy playing with it makes something warm blossom in his chest.

He takes his items to the checkout counter where the associate greets him with a light smile. “Did you get a puppy?”

Five nods. Hopefully she’ll let him know if he missed anything important.

Her smile grows as she scans the stuff, setting aside the food and putting everything else in a plastic bag.

“We do tags here too,” she says. “For the collar.” She points to an odd-looking machine near the door. “It takes cash or card and you can put in all your information and get it engraved in just a couple minutes.”

Five pays for his supplies and thanks her, heaving the bag of dog food into his arms. He stops at the machine; it might be nice for Mr. Pennycrumb to have some ID, just in case he gets lost. Five drops the food on the floor and presses the machine’s _Get Started!_ button.

He types in Mr. Pennycrumb’s name first, watching it appear on the on-screen example. It then asks for his own name, which makes Five smile, seeing his own name up there below Mr. Pennycrumb’s—they’re linked already, by something far more tangible than a chance meeting in the rain.

The address and phone number come next and then he’s done, paying and waiting patiently for the machine to spit out the tag. It only takes a moment, just like the checkout girl said, before Five is tucking it away in his jacket pocket, feeling lighter than he has in a while.

He thinks this just might be genuine excitement.

 

As it turns out, Mr. Pennycrumb, much like Five, is not a fan of baths.

Five, after decades of apocalypse life, has a hard time not seeing them as a massive and unnecessary waste of water. Mr. Pennycrumb just doesn’t like it, probably just to make Five’s life more difficult. Five scowls, because the puppy didn’t seem to mind the rain, but this is where he draws the line?

Huh. Well, they have that in common, he supposes.

Mr. Pennycrumb takes his single moment of distraction to jump out of the bath, nose his way out of a door that never quite closes right, and bolt away down the hall, still covered in bubbles.

“No,” Five groans, his forehead falling forward to rest on the side of the tub. He’s already soaked from all of Mr. Pennycrumb’s wriggling and previous escape attacks, and now the whole house is going to smell like wet dog.

He jumps when he hears a startled yelp, followed by his siblings’ usual noisy outburst.

Sure enough, Mr. Pennycrumb is the source of the commotion. He’s made his way to the living room, where the rest of his family had been sitting around, chatting and drinking various warm, caffeinated drinks. The puppy is running in circles around the room, getting water everywhere. Allison’s tucked her legs up on the couch to avoid getting wet, but it’s clearly too late for Diego and Vanya, both of which look like they’ve already been jumped on. The whole room is in general panic, everyone looking wildly confused, as if they haven’t faced much, much weirder than a random puppy on the loose. Perhaps this is just too mundane of an issue for the Hargreeves family.

The moment Mr. Pennycrumb spots Five, he scampers over to him, jumping up and getting his wet paws all over Five’s legs, not that it matters, considering the fact that Five is already drenched, dripping water on the hardwood floor.

His siblings’ eyes follow the puppy, all of them staring at Five with various mixtures of bewilderment and concern. Five sighs, kneeling down to let Mr. Pennycrumb lick at his cheek for a moment before eventually settling down to sit beside Five and wag his tail.

“Oh so _now_ you wanna calm down?” Five asks him, glaring without any heat. “After you make a big huge mess and scare all my siblings? Wonderful.”

“What’s going on?” Allison asks.

“I think Five got a dog,” Vanya answers.

“Huh.”

“You better clean all this up,” Diego says. “Don’t make Mom do everything.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Five snaps, scooping Mr. Pennycrumb back up into his arms. The puppy smacks him in the face with a sopping wet ear. Five sighs again.

“Aw, he’s a little shit just like you.” Klaus grins.

“Alright.” Five straights up and turns on his heel. “Mr. Pennycrumb and I will be going now. Maybe we can do a proper introduction later, but he needs to finish his bath.”

With that he leaves, not bothering to answer the soft, confused, “Mr… Pennycrumb?” behind him from Luther.

As far as first impressions go, it’s not too bad. They’ve all certainly seen worse from each other in this family. Mr. Pennycrumb is going to fit in just fine.

 

(And that night, when it’s usually too dark and too quiet for Five to let himself get comfortable, Mr. Pennycrumb jumps up on his bed, curling up against Five’s side, warm and alive and filling the room with his little puppy snores—Five sleeps through the night for the first time in weeks.)

 

* * *

 

_It’s not a secret anymore that Five is learning violin from Vanya. His weekly lessons simply aren’t enough for him to learn violin—he has to practice on his own as well. Like, a lot. Like, every day, Vanya suggests. And he can’t practice only at Vanya’s apartment or when he’s sure no one else is home, so he ends up biting the bullet and letting the family know over dinner one night, threatening them with extreme violence if any one of them says a single word about it._

_Initially, there had been a general consensus that it was ridiculous that Five thought they would make fun of him. They were_ proud, _in all honesty. Five was trying something new, doing something for himself, something he had an interest in. It would be a great opportunity for him to spend more time with Vanya, and music was supposed to be very therapeutic. They were glad that their tiny gremlin brother was trying something new._

_The silent agreement to not tease him only faltered once. Ben shut it down quick._

_Diego and Klaus are trudging up the stairs, Ben in tow, having just come back from dinner. They freeze on the landing at the sound of a foreign noise—something a cross between a yowling cat and a droning hum._

_“What the hell is that?” Diego demands, his hand automatically going to one of his many knives._

_Klaus rolls his eyes. “Ease up there, Batman. Violence isn’t always the solution.”_

_Ben stops, tilting his head to the side to listen. The noise cuts through the air yet again, slow and sighing. It changes, the pitch shifting slowly up and back down. It takes him a minute to place it in his memory, having to go way back to when he was eleven, and Vanya first decided she needed new something to occupy her empty, ordinary life._

_“It’s Five,” he says, a proud grin slowly spreading across his face._

_“Five?” Klaus asks, frowning in confusion. Diego looks around at empty air for wherever Ben might happen to be lurking. “What is he doing?”_

_“Practicing would be my guess.”_

_It’s not quite the same as with Vanya. (Not that he’d gotten to hear Vanya play that much back in the early days; the privilege of getting to experience something so newly personal was extended only to Five, as Vanya’s closest confidant, and to Mom, her first teacher.) Vanya tended to slough through the sections that challenged her, repeating them over and over until she finally got the pattern right or the tempo up to speed. Five’s playing could only be described as droning—every note so long and slow that Ben couldn’t yet recognize any sort of melody._

_He slips around Klaus and Diego and moves towards Five’s room. Klaus creeps behind him, pulling Diego along as well, probably to use as a human shield in case Five catches them and things get violent._

_The door to Five’s room is cracked—most likely for Mr. Pennycrumb to come and go as he pleases—and Klaus and Diego crouch in the shadows along the wall in the hallway, peering through it. Ben, however, pays it no mind, instead walking straight through the wall to get a better look. Five won’t even know he’s there._

_His smallest brother sits ramrod straight in a chair stolen from the kitchen table, the violin tucked under his chin. There’s sheet music set up on a stand, absolutely_ covered _in Five’s scribbling handwriting, each symbol labelled and each note marked with both the name and the fingering. Five was always serious with his studies—he didn’t want to miss a thing, especially something as foreign to him as this. Ben can picture him listening intently to Vanya’s instructions, making note of every single little thing she says._

 _He shifts around to get a better view of his brother. Five is scowling, but Ben thinks that might just be his concentration face, considering the fact that his tongue is also sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Five would kill him for even thinking it, but screw it, Ben’s already dead—it’s absolutely_ adorable.

_What’s even cuter though—quite possibly the cutest thing to ever happen on this planet throughout all of history (but that’s just Ben’s unbiased opinion)—is what’s going on with Mr. Pennycrumb. The dog is curled up, asleep, right on top of Five’s feet, his little puppy snores mingling with Five’s playing._

_“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Ben says. He watches Diego shove a hand over Klaus’s mouth when his dumbass brother almost coos at the sight._

_He can see now, why Five is playing so slowly. Right beside his music on the stand is a tuner displaying the exact note that’s coming from Five’s instrument. It lights up green when he hits it spot-on and red when he doesn’t. Five is so focused on making sure that he’s getting his notes exactly right that he isn’t paying a lick of attention to any of the other aspects of his practice. The bow bounces slightly across the string, screeching when he presses too hard and sliding at all the wrong angles when the pressure is too light. His fingers shift and slide around on the neck as he searches for the right notes._

_It takes Ben way too long to realize that his brother is squeaking out a slow, careful rendition of_ Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. _It’s painful to listen to, and yet Ben has never been prouder; it’s incredible to see his brother working so hard on something that’s actually productive and healthy for him._

_He is so incredibly happy. Five deserves this. He deserves this chance to learn and grow and do something just for himself. He’s sacrificed too much, given so much of himself to save the world and to save their family. He deserves this._

_And Ben will not let his other idiot brothers ruin it._

_He shoots Klaus a pointed glare and motions for him and Diego to get the hell out before Five can spot them and fly off the handle. Klaus eventually manages to take the hint and grabs Diego’s sleeve, pulling him away down the hall._

_Ben stays for just a moment, watching his brother fondly. Five with his new puppy and his new hobby—it’s not something he ever thought he’d see. Hell, less than a year ago, he hadn’t even thought he’d ever see Five again. Even though he didn’t live to see his brother’s return, he was luckier than most; Five came back, miraculously, and thanks to Klaus, Ben’s not entirely gone either._

_He doesn’t stay long though. Five is vulnerable right now, in a way that he so rarely is. Ben feels a bit like he’s intruding, so with one last encouraging smile that Five can’t see, he allows himself to slip back to his place by Klaus’s side._

_“Proud of you, Five,” he says, just before he fades out of the room._

 

* * *

 

While Five and Klaus have an agreement that whenever their rough nights coincide, they’ll head down to watch one of Allison’s movies, Five and Luther have a different arrangement. Whenever they’re both home—usually alone—during the day and bored or feeling lost, they marathon episodes of sitcoms they missed while they were busy not being on this Earth. Allison gave Luther a list of some of the ones she likes, and Vanya added a couple, and they’ve been slowly working their way through them together. Luther never watches without Five, and Five doesn’t watch without Luther.

But right now, Five isn’t bored. He is home, but he’s a man on a mission.

He’s going to get rid of that creepy painting of himself, and he needs the tallest guy in the house to get it done. Frankly, it’s been up for way too long. He should have torn it down the moment he got back, but there were admittedly much more pressing matters. Now though, it’s time.

He jumps straight into Luther’s room, startling his brother. “C’mon. You’re gonna help me with something.”

“What?” Luther asks, already getting up and following Five downstairs.

Five stomps over to his portrait and jabs an angry finger up at it. “This.”

Luther nods, getting it already. “Yeah, I guess we don’t need this anymore.” He reaches up, managing to pull the thing down with his impressive height. He holds it out, looking between the portrait and the real Five. “It doesn’t even look like you.”

Five shrugs. “I guess Dad didn’t have any good pictures of me to base it off of. It’s not like he was sentimental or anything.”

“No, it’s not that.” Luther frowns. “It looks like you, but it doesn’t.”

“You’re not making any sense. Can I punch a hole in it now?”

But Luther’s stuck on the portrait now. “You look so cold.”

“Okay.”

“I always thought it looked kind of off for some reason. That’s it. It makes you look like you don’t care, but you do.”

Five squints at Luther, worried they’re verging into feelings territory. He can barely handle that with Vanya and occasionally Klaus, talking about the complicated way Five feels and shows affection for his family is not something he’s ready to discuss with Luther.

“Alright,” he says through gritted teeth, hoping Luther will get the hint through his thick skull and drop it.

Luther glances over at him and Five fixes his brother with his best glare. Luther nods and sets the horrible thing down. “It’s been bothering me for so long.”

“Yeah, it’s terrible,” Five says. He jumps, appearing right in front of where Luther leaned the portrait up against the wall and puts his foot straight though his creepy oil-painted face. Luther actually nods approvingly.

“Do you have plans for today?” Luther asks.

“No.” He’d had a lesson with Vanya earlier, and he plans to take Mr. Pennycrumb for a walk this evening, and he’ll have to work on the scales Vanya gave him later tonight, but he’s got some time to kill, and he knows what Luther’s asking.

Five jumps to the living room, getting the TV turned on and set up by the time Luther makes his way in.

The show they’re on now is called _Parks and Recreation,_ and Five enjoys it. All the characters are little weirdos that compliment each other well, and their problems always have happy endings. Five’s recently learned that he’s a fan of happy endings.

Five thinks back to when they first started watching and their other siblings were far more inclined to stop in and join them, back before it became primarily his and Luther’s thing. He remembers Diego mentioning that April reminded him of Five, and Andy was Klaus (“ _Someone will die…” “Of fun!”_ ) and they all had a good laugh at that. Klaus had shot back that Diego was Ron since they were both so grumpy, which made even Five smirk seeing Diego scowl right in time with the character on screen. None of the comparisons were super accurate by any means, but it had been fun, and Five could do a lot worse than be compared to April.

The others had been a bit harder to place, even jokingly, but Vanya had suggested that both Allison and Ann from the show were nice and the voice of reason, and Luther had seemed to like Leslie a lot.

He and Luther usually don’t talk much during watchtime when it’s just the two of them, or else one of them will miss something, but two of the characters get a dog in this episode, and that seems to remind Luther about the newest addition to the Hargreeves household.

“How’s your dog?” he asks. “What’s his name again?”

“Mr. Pennycrumb. And he’s good. He might come find us if he wakes up and notices I’m gone.”

“Aw,” Klaus coos from where he’s draped across an armchair, half asleep already, despite it being four o’clock in the afternoon. He’d been there already when Five and Luther showed up, but they mostly just ignored him. If he wants to watch, he can. If he wants to nap undisturbed, he can go up to his room.

“And your fish?” Five asks Luther.

“They’re all still living. I’m thinking about getting a few more, although I’ll have to get another tank.”

“Did you ever name them?” He’d like to be able to call them something more than _Luther’s fish_ if they have other names.

Luther nods. “April, Andy, and Ron. After the show.” He shrugs, looking a bit embarrassed, but Five doesn’t judge him. Maybe other people would think those are strange fish names, but as far as Five’s concerned, if those are their names, then those are their names.

“I like it,” Five tells Luther.

“You guys are big secret softies,” Klaus says. “Bonding over your pets and shit. It’s adorable.”

Five hurls a pillow at him, and he thinks Luther actually chuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i just finished parks and rec and i couldn't help it


	3. so if you don't know what to make of this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do you feel about peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches?” he asks.
> 
> Claire wrinkles her nose. “I feel ew.”
> 
> “You’re ew,” Five says before he realizes the words are even leaving his mouth.

Five practices the violin every day, just like Vanya recommends. His siblings, he knows, make their assumptions. They figure it’s because he’s trying to throw himself into a new obsession now that the apocalypse is over or because he’s in some sort of one-sided competition with the rest of Vanya’s students or because they think Vanya’s his favorite sibling and he wants to make her proud. And yeah, those are all pretty good assumptions, but the real reason?

Some of these songs fucking  _ suck. _

_ Twinkle Twinkle? _ Terrible.

_ Lightly Row? _ Disgusting.

_ Frere Jacques? _ Makes him want to hurl the goddamn instrument out of the window.

Luckily, Five is ridiculously stubborn. Vanya has him listening to playlists full of music that he’ll eventually get to learn (after a brief three-hour lesson on playlists, the smartphone he didn’t know had been purchased for him, and something called Spotify) so Five is counting down the time until he gets to learn some of his favorites. In order to get there, he first has to master all the boring-as-shit pieces.

Vanya thinks it’s hilarious. 

She also says she’s actually glad he hates the songs, because apparently his practice face is a truly miserable glare, and his sister had been worried for a while that she was somehow the cause of that scowl. He assures her all the time that she’s a great teacher, and he likes playing violin—scales and etudes, not very surprisingly, are his bread and butter—he just wishes that whoever wrote all these songs for beginners would have written something less mind-numbingly terrible.

That’s just his very correct opinion. Mr. Pennycrumb, however, is perfectly happy to curl up at Five’s feet whenever he plays anything, and Vanya insists that all her other students prefer real songs to etudes, but they’re all wrong.

“So,” Vanya says as they settle into family dinner one evening, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?” Allison prompts.

“Some of the other private music teachers in the area will do this thing where, at the end of the year, all their students pick a piece and perform a little solo for friends and family. It’s a good way to show the parents their hard work and give the kids a chance to perform.”

“That’s great, Vanya!” Allison beams. “Sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“Wait,” Klaus says, glancing sideways at Five, “does that mean we get to see Five in action?”

Vanya looks at him and shrugs. “If he wants. It’s not like I’m going to force him to be a part of the concert, but I think it would be a good experience.”

“No way,” Diego says, grinning wickedly. “He has to do it.”

Five stabs at his broccoli with his fork. “She just said that I don’t have to, dipshit.”

“Well, I’m telling you that you do.”

“You are in no way in charge of me, asshole. I am an adult and I can make my own decisions and you’re making me not want to do it!”

“Aww, teenage rebellion,” Klaus coos. “Doesn’t want to do what his parents tell him to.”

“I will gut you, Klaus.”

“Never refer to any of as Five’s parent ever again,” Diego grumbles. “It’s just weird.”

“ _ Thank you, _ ” Five agrees, nodding and waving his knife in Diego’s direction.

“Well, Five,” Vanya says, choosing to ignore all the bickering and general threats of violence, “I would love it if you would perform. You can pick whatever song you want.”

“Fine,” Five grumbles, using the spoon that he was going to hurl at Klaus’s dumb forehead to instead shovel mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Vanya beams at him, so it’s worth it. The things he does for this family.

 

* * *

 

Klaus slides into the booth next to Vanya. She yelps slightly, having to scoot over quickly to avoid getting accidentally jabbed by one of his very bony elbows. Five smirks from across the table, taking a sip of his coffee. They’ve made their way far enough down the menu to actually reach black coffee, so this time it’s Vanya wrinkling her nose with every sip. Multiple empty packets of sweetener sit in the center of the table.

“What did I miss?” Klaus asks.

“Hello, Klaus,” Vanya says. “Welcome. I didn’t know you would be joining us, but welcome.”

“Oh sorry. Am I crashing?”

“No, no,” Vanya reassures quickly. 

“Did you bring Ben?” Five asks.

Klaus shoots him a look. “No. He’s at home. Ever since we figured out how to let him interact more with inanimate objects, I can barely get him out of the library. Am I not good enough for you, Five?”

Five raises his eyebrows and raises his mug again. “I was just asking.”

“We were talking about cooking classes,” Vanya says, catching Klaus up like the kind sister she is.

“Oh, are you taking cooking classes, old man?” Klaus asks. “I feel like you should know that Ben also refers to you as an old man.”

“That’s fine. I am an old man. And it’s way better than ‘kiddo.’ And  _ Vanya’s _ the one taking cooking classes. I already tried enough new things for the foreseeable… ever.”

“Really?” Vanya frowns at him. “One thing outside of your comfort zone and you’re done for the rest of your life?”

“Yep. I’ve earned this.”

“You have not earned this. You take lessons with  _ me. _ I’m your sister. That can’t possibly count!”

“Well it does.”

“I’ll take cooking classes with you, Van,” Klaus interjects. “Luther and I have been trying a lot of hobby classes recently so what’s one more?”

“So that’s why Luther’s room looks like a kindergarten classroom,” Five says, snapping his fingers. The last time he jumped in there to steal a jacket, the place had been covered in crafts, stuff that doesn’t quite look like it was made by a child but also doesn’t really look like it was made by a grown adult.

“How on earth would you know what a kindergarten classroom looks like?” Vanya asks around a laugh.

“I just know things. It’s a gift.”

“He’s a robot!” Klaus says, snapping his fingers enthusiastically. “This proves it! Stuff just gets downloaded onto his flash drive.”

Five pauses, then shakes his head. “No. One,” he holds up a single finger, “I’m not a robot—”

“—sounds like something a robot would say—”

“—and two,  _ flash drive _ is certainly not the right word.”

“I think it’s two words, actually,” Vanya supplies.

“Shut the hell up, Vanya, you traitor.”

“Vanya,” Klaus says, turning to her all serious and dramatic. “I love you. How does it feel to be the only one who can make fun of Five without getting death threats?”

She grins. “It feels good. It feels nice.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Klaus sighs. “You know, the other day he threatened to shatter my kneecaps because I sneezed in the hallway outside of the library.”

“It was a loud sneeze!” Five defends. “Unnecessarily loud.”

“You’re just jumpy,” Vanya says.

“Hey!” Klaus beams and stares up at the sky like he’s made some miraculous revelation. “He’s jumpy! Get it? Because of his jumps.”

Both Vanya and Five stare at him, equally unimpressed. “That was weak,” Vanya says.

“You guys just hate fun,” Klaus grumbles.

Vanya laughs softly, taking another sip of her coffee. Immediately, her face scrunches up in disgust and she actually sticks her tongue out. Five has seen a very similar expression on Mr. Pennycrumb’s face when he first tried tomato. The puppy will eat virtually anything (Five is so proud) but he hates tomato. 

(He seems to also really like peanut butter and marshmallows—if Five believed in any sort of higher power, he might say this is a match made in heaven.)

“Klaus, do you want this?” Vanya pushes her black coffee towards him.

“Oh hell no. Gross.”

 

* * *

 

Forget stopping the apocalypse, forget learning to travel through time, forget helping Vanya make a breakthrough in controlling her powers—Five’s greatest accomplishment is most definitely being Claire’s favorite uncle.

And he knows that it’s because he looks like a kid, and that makes him a mystery that a curious, inquisitive kid like Claire wants to figure out, but he can’t bring himself to care. He adores his niece and loves spending time with her, and unlike his siblings, she’s the only member of his family that he can spend actual time with and never contemplate why he didn’t just let the apocalypse happen.

This is the third time she’s visited them, but Five will never get over the warm feeling that spreads through his chest when Claire’s eyes light up and she races over to him. Allison must have had some talk with her daughter about how Five isn’t a huge fan of touch—and of course his niece got it right away, the little genius that she is. She always stops right in front of Five, beaming up at him and bouncing on her toes.

“Hi, Uncle Five!”

“Hi, Claire,” he says, smiling back. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Are you in the mood for a hug today?”

Five wants to say yes, because he loves his niece, and she gets all cute and excited when he lets her hug him, but today simply isn’t a hug day, and he doesn’t want another lecture from Allison about respecting his own boundaries and doing what’s best for him. 

“Sorry, Claire. Not today.”

Claire takes it in stride, just like she always does. She doesn’t pout or look at him with sadness or pity, just nods and keeps on smiling. This visit she’s missing one of her front teeth. 

“What about a fist bump?” She holds out a fist, like she’s going to punch him in the gut, although with terrible form.

Five frowns. “A what?”

“A fist bump! It’s like this—” She lifts her other hand, tapping her fists together lightly. “It’s like a cooler way to high five.”

“Oh, so I’m the only one in the family who’d be allowed to do it, then,” Five says, grinning. Hesitantly, he raises his own fist and taps it lightly against hers. Claire beams even wider.

“Definitely,” Claire says sagely. “You’re the coolest person in this family. After me, of course.”

“Of course,” Five agrees, nodding enthusiastically. “It’s a good thing you’re here. I don’t know how much longer I could survive in the house with these weirdos.”

Claire laughs, loud and bright, just like Allison, but a little more cackling, and with absolutely no reservations. Five adds it to his mental list of favorite things in the world.

“Can I see your room?” she asks, suddenly changing the subject. 

Five is bewildered by such a random request. Usually, Claire likes to see his powers in action—she claims they’re the coolest, which they certainly are—or ask him question after question about the things she’s learning in school.

This is a new one. 

“Uh, why do you want that? Isn’t there something more exciting you’d rather do?”

Behind her, Allison huffs, appearing with the last of their bags in-hand and dropping them onto the floor with a loud thump. 

“Claire has been very into seeing people’s rooms lately.” Five raises a questioning eyebrow at his sister over Claire’s head and Allison just shrugs. “Claire, remember what we talked about. Uncle Five likes to have his own space, and if he doesn’t want to show you his room, he doesn’t have to.”

“No, it’s fine,” Five says. “I don’t mind.” Claire’s hobbies might sometimes be strange, but they’re a lot more tame than anything the rest of them grew up with, so he’s willing to indulge them.

“Can we right now?” Claire begs. “Pleeeease?”

Five looks to Allison for permission before nodding. “Go ahead,” Allison says, waving them off. “I’ll just track down someone else to help me take these up.”

“Klaus is here and hiding from potential manual labor under the couch,” Five says, hurrying after Claire as she practically skips up the steps.

“Thank you! Although, I’m gonna tell him you ratted him out.”

“That’s cold, Allison, but luckily I don’t care. Maybe next time he won’t use peanut butter to bribe Mr. Pennycrumb into spending time with him when it isn’t designated snack time.”

Claire stops on the steps, turning to look at Five with wide, serious eyes. “After we look at your room, we  _ will  _ be visiting Mr. Pennycrumb.”

“Sure thing. He’ll be delighted to see you.”

He leads her up the stairs to his room, explaining to her once again that,  _ yes, _ he theoretically could jump them both up there, but  _ no, _ she would not actually enjoy that. His siblings hate when he carries them along on his jumps. Luther and Diego are pretty dramatic about it, but Allison is the one most likely to lose her lunch and then yell at Five for the next ten minutes, even in the middle of a mission. Claire has more manners than her mother did, so she probably won’t even be mad, but Five doesn’t want to be responsible for any nausea.

“Woah,” Claire says, looking around. “You have a weird room.”

Five raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

He supposes that’s true. It’s still very much a child’s bedroom on paper, but the scribbled probability maps detailing who he might possibly need to kill to stop the apocalypse (thank god that Claire doesn’t know about that) tell an entirely different story. 

“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “What’s all this?” She points to the smudged equations that are still covering nearly every inch of his walls.

“Math I was doing for that big mission a while ago,” he answers. 

Claire doesn’t know how close she came to almost dying. She doesn’t know that her Uncle Five spent decades in a world where she actually did die, and he read about her existence in a crumpled, dirty tabloid. She knows there was a big mission, one that her mom had to go back to New York for, one that her missing Uncle Five came home from somewhere far away to help with, but that’s the extent of it. Five has no idea if Allison intends on ever telling her the truth.

“I guess I never got around to taking it off.”

She nods. “It kind of makes sense.”

“It does?” For a split second, he’s both surprised and utterly  _ terrified _ that she might be talking about the math itself. 

“Yeah. Mommy says you’re actually an old man, even though you look like a kid. Your room is sort of like that. It’s got kid stuff and old man stuff.”

“I suppose that’s true.” 

“Hey, what’s this?” She’s been wandering around his room, coming to a stop where his violin case is sitting in the armchair.

“A violin,” he says, jumping right over next to her and opening it up.

Claire gasps. “Just like Aunt Vanya!”

He chuckles. “Not quite yet. But she is giving me lessons.”

“Do you think she’d give me lessons?” Claire’s eyes are huge. Five is always baffled at what gets her excited like this. Sometimes it’s their powers or Mr. Pennycrumb or Luther taking her to get ice cream for the fifth time in a week, but usually it’s little mundane things, like going grocery shopping with Klaus and Diego or a snail in the courtyard or finding a rock in the park that looks just slightly like the state of California. 

“I’m sure she would,” Five says. “She might be a little long-distance for you though. You have to go to lessons like every week.”

Her face falls. “Oh.” 

“Maybe you can do it over video chat or something though.” He wasn’t a fan of video chatting at first—why would you want anyone to be able to see you from anywhere at anytime. (And  _ no, _ it’s not because he’s an old man who can’t use technology, shut the hell up, Diego.) But when Claire started calling, he’d decided to make an exception, just for her.

Claire springs right back into her good mood. “Yeah! Hey, can you show me, Uncle Five?”

“Oh, um, I don’t really think you want that, Claire. I’m not very good.”

“Pleeeeeeeease?” Goddamn. Does this kid have the largest eyes in the whole goddamn world? Frankly, he’s concerned. Is the world too bright for her with her giant puppy dog eyes? Does Allison need to take her to an eye doctor? Mom could probably look into it right here… 

“Fine.” He tugs open the case and carefully removes the instrument. “Here,” he sits down in the armchair and motions for Claire to come sit near him. The chair is big enough for both of them to sit without touching, and for once Five doesn’t curse his thirteen-year-old body. “I’ll show you all the cool stuff Vanya taught me.”

She nods eagerly and hops up beside him, a tiny hand reaching out to pluck lightly at one of the strings. She grins at the noise it makes. 

“That’s the E string,” he explains. “The others are A, D, and G.”

“Cool. What are these little pieces of tape?”

“That’s so I can play the other notes.”

“Auntie Vanya’s violin doesn’t have them though.”

“That’s because she doesn’t need them. I told you, I’m not very good.”

“Yet,” Claire corrects. “You’ll be good one day.” She strums at the strings again, grinning and enjoying the sound of the different notes together. 

 

Claire doesn’t know about the apocalypse that Five lived through, just that he was trapped in the future for a long time. She has no idea what that future was like, and Five intends to keep it that way for the foreseeable… ever. She doesn’t need to know that.

It also means that she doesn’t know that Uncle Five is absolutely the last person she should ask for help making lunch.

“How do you feel about peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches?” he asks.

Claire wrinkles her nose. “I feel ew.”

“You’re ew,” Five says before he realizes the words are even leaving his mouth.

“ _ You’re _ ew,” Claire shoots back, sticking her tongue out at him.

“It’s fine,” he says. “We’ll just cook, I guess.”

“Do you know how to?”

No. He knows how to heat up a can of beans or roast a cockroach over an open flame. “What do you think, Claire? I’m fifty-eight years old. You think I went all that time without ever learning to cook?” 

“Alright, sorry. What should we make?”

“Why don’t you choose. I’ll… supervise.”

“Cool! Mom never lets me make up my own recipes.”

“Oh, uh…” But Claire is already rummaging through the pantry, pulling out whatever foods catch her attention.

And that’s where Allison finds them, thirty minutes later, smoke pouring out of the oven as Five motions for Claire to stay back with one arm while pulling out the tray of burnt cookies with the other.

“What the—Five!” Allison tugs Claire out of the way and begins fanning at the smoke. “What did you do?”

“We made lunch!” Claire says, gesturing to the remains of their “salad.” Five isn’t quite sure what the definition of a salad is, but it probably doesn’t usually include gummy worms or peanuts. Whatever, he ate all of his anyway. Claire had then decided that, since they did such a good job on lunch, they should try cookies. With no recipe. Or knowledge of what actually goes into cookies.

“And cookies,” Five supplies. They’re actually not all that burnt. The smoke is deceptive.

“Those are not cookies,” Allison says, staring down at them.

“Sure they are,” Five says. 

“They’re chocolate chip, marshmallow, peanut butter, and blueberry!” Claire grins. She reaches out to grab one, but Allison tugs her hand away.

“Why don’t you let Uncle Five try one first,” she says, staring pointedly at Five over Claire’s head, as if she expects Five to find them disgusting. Jokes on her—they’re not roaches, so… can’t be all bad.

Five shoves a whole cookie into his mouth while looking Allison dead in the eyes. He chews and chews—the blueberries are an odd texture, and they’re a little tougher than when Mom makes them, but the marshmallows are good, so he considers it a win.

“Delicious,” he says with his mouth still full, just before swallowing with only a little extra effort.

“Cool!” Claire reaches out to take one, but Allison once again tugs her away.

“No. Five, just admit this was a disaster, and then the  _ three _ of us can make some actual cookies.”

“Never. I will never admit to anything.”

Allison sighs, closing her eyes and looking like she’s counting down from ten in her head to keep herself from initiating an impromptu sparring session in the middle of the kitchen. “Five… Please don’t make this difficult.” 

“I will not admit anything. But…” He looks at Claire, her wide eyes bouncing back and forth between him and her mom as they argue and decides to take pity on his sister. Honestly, the last thing he needs is for her to stop him from spending time with Claire. “I suppose we can make some more cookies. To go along with these.”

“Yay!” Claire beams. 

They make it about three minutes into the baking process before Klaus and Diego appear. Subsequently, the second batch actually turns out to be worse than the first. 

Five eats them both anyways.

 

Stupid Allison has him roped into her stupid nighttime routine for Claire, which unfortunately involves Five in his academy-sanctioned pajamas, standing with the rest of his family in the foyer to wish Claire goodnight. The worst part is that the rest of his siblings seem to really enjoy cooing at him and ruffling his hair, even though there’s a literal child  _ right there _ for them to coddle instead.

They only do it to annoy him. He'll exact his revenge once Claire goes home. Or to bed. Who knows if he can wait that long? 

They always get together like this, every evening that Claire’s in town, and Claire goes down the line one by one to say her goodnights, which tend to include Diego scooping her up and twirling her around slightly and Luther promising to watch cartoons with her in the morning.

“I know it’s not a hug day,” Claire says when she reaches Five.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Sorry.” He raises his hand. “Fist bump instead?”

She wrinkles her nose. “You can’t goodnight fist bump.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know there were rules.”

“Well, there are. What about a goodnight kiss?”

“A what?”

She taps his shoulder and he leans down closer without really thinking about it. Claire presses a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling back, smiling. “A goodnight kiss. Was that okay?”

He nods, feeling shell shocked. It wasn’t overwhelming the same way hugs are, all tight and constraining and just way too much. It was overwhelming in some completely foreign way. It was innocence and love, expressed so simply. 

“Alright,” Allison says, smiling down at them, her eyes shining. Five blinks at her, still having a hard time processing. “Say goodnight to Uncle Five.”

“Goodnight, Uncle Five!”

“Good…” He clears his throat. “Goodnight, Claire.”

His ears are ringing, and he can only distantly hear Klaus’s cooing and Diego’s teasing. For once, he couldn’t care less.

 

* * *

 

Since Dad died and Grace is no longer constrained by his cruelty, she’s taken up gardening out in the courtyard. What was dreary, barren, and grey for the past thirty years, is now a colorful, blossoming haven. Five finds himself drawn to it often, although he’s not sure why.

(Maybe it’s all the green. There was no green in the apocalypse. And it’s lively—a much more palatable type of lively than his bickering, childish siblings.)

“Hello, Five dear,” Mom says, smiling gently, although she doesn’t look up from the bed of flowers. 

“Hi, Mom.” It’s gotten easier, calling her that. When he was little, Five readily called Grace his mother, back when he was young and innocent and naive. When he was around eleven, he began seeing her almost exclusively as  _ Grace. _ She cared for them, sure, but there were still pieces of Reginald built into her programming, and it was hard to ignore the reality of her existence.  _ Grace _ continued through the apocalypse and the Commission, but now that he’s back, and Dad is dead, and the apocalypse has been averted, he’s been conditioning himself to think of her as _Mom_ again.

It’s clear that the love she has for them is stronger than Dad’s programming, and without his tampering, she’s finally free to be her own person. It’s hard, letting someone take care of him the way Grace does, but he knows it’s good for him. It’s one of many steps in his readjustment plan. Letting  _ Mom _ care from him seems easier, more expected and normal than allowing his siblings to baby him.

Five sets down next to her, perched on the very edge of the bench.

“It’s a lovely day,” she says. “It’s good to see you out and enjoying this weather.” It is nice, perfectly warm with a slight breeze. It rustles through the plants, the floral scent swelling up in the air.

“I don’t like to be cooped up for too long.”

Mom hums and finishes patting down the soil around her most recent plants.

“They’re coming along nicely, Mom.” The courtyard is colorful and bright, all thanks to Grace’s tireless work.

“Thank you, dear. I find I quite enjoy it. I like to think of this garden as art that I helped to grow.”

“It’s beautiful.” More beautiful than any old painting Dad had hung up in the house, not that Five would ever say that to Grace. “You have a gift, Mom.”

She looks over at him, her smile beaming. “Why thank you, sweetheart,” she practically gushes. “In truth, I owe it all to you kids.” She turns back to the bed in front of her, brushing her fingers gently through the flowers with something akin to love. “You’re my inspiration.”

“Inspiration, huh?” Five glances around. There’s a lot of different plants, and a lot of different colors. Some of the combinations probably shouldn’t go well together, but Mom manages to make it work somehow. It’s a little chaotic, a little beautiful. “I can see it.”

“I have a bed,” Grace continues, “for each of you.”

“You do?”

“Mmhm. One of the wonderful things about flowers is that humans have given them all meanings. You can tell a story with them. I can see my wonderful children here, create portraits of each of you.”

“Tell me about them,” Five says, finding himself intrigued. He hadn’t known that flowers actually had different meanings. He’d always just thought of them as flowers.

Actually, for a long time he hadn’t thought of them at all. Trees for wood and shade, fruits and vegetables for food, greenery for fresher air—those were the plants he had wished for, dreamt of. 

Flowers are delicate. Beautiful. Something he didn’t have time to think about in the apocalypse. But maybe he can slow down enough for them now. 

He lets his fingers ghost over the petals. They’re soft in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, maybe ever, but they don’t break under his touch.

“This is Luther,” Grace begins, guiding him over to a bed of yellow and purple. “Lavender heather,” she says, “for admiration, and for solitude. And then daffodils, for chivalry, rebirth, and new beginnings.” 

Five nods, needing no further explanation. 

“And here is Diego.” Tall, multicolored flowers stand proud, interspersed with something yellow. “Gladiolus,” Grace explains, “symbolizes strength of character, while yellow iris is for passion.” 

“I think he’ll like that all his flowers are tall,” Five says, chuckling. “He hates being shorter than Klaus.”

Mom brushes her fingers against the petals. “They’re so bold. Just like my Diego.”

“Yeah,” Five says softly, unable to do anything but agree. Mom, somehow, knows them better than anyone else in the world. She’s seen all their flaws.

And she still loves them.

“Here is Allison,” Grace says. It’s all pinks and purples and reds, vibrant and befitting for America’s sweetheart, even if he knows Mom’s explanation will be much deeper. “Amaryllis, for worth beyond beauty, irises for eloquence, and pink roses for admiration, elegance, and grace.” For a woman who lost herself in her powers and her fame, and then rebuilt herself in compassion and selflessness.

“Delphinium,” she continues, pointing to a tall purple thing. “For Klaus. It means fun, levity, kind- and open-heartedness. And then there’s the  bouvardia.” Pink petals that she explains symbolize enthusiasm and zest for life. It’s vibrant and warm, like Klaus. 

Vanya’s bed is mainly white, with some interspersed pink blossoms. The white chrysanthemum apparently means truth, loyalty, and love, while the white hyacinth is for loveliness. Mom says that Vanya sometimes needs that reassurance. The pink is something called peonies, and they apparently symbolize both bashfulness and compassion.

Ben’s are planted closest to his statue, and a bed of flowers might actually bear a closer resemblance to Ben than the literal statue made in his image. Freesia and white rose, for innocence, thoughtfulness, sympathy, spirituality, and new beginnings. Mom talks about them the most relevantly, her expression distant and her smile slightly sad.

“And this is yours.” Grace gently leads him to a bed right in the middle. A lot of it is blue, which feels rather apt given his powers although there’s also a soft pink. She sits down on a bench, motioning for him to join her. He does, running his hand through the flowers. “This is called blue hyacinth, and it is meant to symbolize playfulness and constancy. I found that very fitting for you. And then this pink one is known as king protea. Not only does it stand for resourcefulness and courage, it also means change. Your life has been marked by massive changes, and you’re going through perhaps the largest one now. I am so proud of you, Five, for how you’re adjusting to life again.”

His throat is impossibly tight, and his eyes have started stinging for some reason. “Th-thanks, Mom.” 

He feels his cheeks flush and Mom must notice, because she meets his gaze and holds it, taking both of his hands in hers and squeezing gently. 

“I know it’s been difficult. And you’re trying so hard. I can see it, and your brothers and sisters can see it too. We are all so proud of you. I just want you to know, you can always come to me. About anything.”

“I … I know, Mom. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Oh, I think your little friend has decided to join us. Hello!”

He turns, following her gaze to see Mr. Pennycrumb bounding over to them, ears and tongue flopping behind him and tail wagging as he sits down on Five’s foot.

Five reaches down, scooping the puppy up. He jumps off of Five’s lap and into the bed of flowers before Five can stop him.

“Mr. Pennycrumb, no.” He grabs for him, but the puppy has already laid down in the flowers with a huff. “Ugh. Sorry.”

Mom laughs. “Not to worry. He’s not hurting anything.” She reaches out, stroking the puppy’s coat. 

“Are you sure? I can take him in.”

“Don’t be silly. Stay. It’s such a nice day.”

“I suppose it is.”

“I enjoy the sunshine,” Mom says, tilting her head up and smiling. “It’s very nice to get out of the house sometimes, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Five agrees. The sky is blue and the breeze is nice. It feels clean and peaceful, like a world worth saving. He loves his siblings, and everything he did to get back was to save them above everything else. But maybe, as the three of them bask happily in the sun together, there are some other perks too.

 

\-------------

 

“This is stupid,” Five grumbles. 

“It is not,” Allison tuts, holding up yet another button up shirt to Five’s chest. “You don’t want to look unprofessional in front of the rest of Vanya’s students, do you?”

“They’re third-graders, Allison. They don’t care what I look like.”

“You still have to look nice, Five.”

“What I wear will have absolutely no effect on how I play.”

“Oh, hush,” Klaus says. “You were a professional man, Five. You know it’s important to dress for the occasion.”

“Really? You want to compare playing in Vanya’s student recital to my work at the Commission? That’s really what you want to do?”

“Hmm. Maybe not. Ooh, what about this?”

“No,” Five and Allison say together. Allison doesn’t even have to turn around to see that Klaus has picked out yet another garish monstrosity. This one is a pink button down shirt covered with little colorful pineapples, and it’s giving Five a headache to look at.

“You’ve worn suits before, yeah?” Allison asks, alternating between two slightly different colored light blue shirts.

“Sure.” He nods. “But the Commission provided them. It’s not like I ever went shopping for myself.”

“Do you want another suit? Or are we going just button down and tie?”

Five thinks for a moment. “Just button down,” he decides. Five isn’t stupid. He knows he has some issues. He also knows that if he’s stressed or anxious—as being around crowds or dealing with his family tend to make him—the suit might just make him more tense and jumpy. Five is dangerous when he’s jumpy, and accidentally murdering a ten-year-old is so not on his to-do list. Actually, he’s pretty proud to say that murder of any kind is not on his to-do list. Progress.

“Alright,” Allison says, shoving the outfit she’d picked out into his arms. “Go try this on. Changing room’s over there.”

He looks up at her, agitated. “What was the point of all that poking and measuring then?”

“It’s—Just go try it on, Five!” 

Allison picked out a light blue button down, a pair of black dress pants, and a blue and green striped tie that she and Klaus debated about for a solid fifteen minutes. Five took a power nap inside a rack of coats while they did it. All of Allison using him as a living paper doll worked, because everything fit him just fine.

“It fits,” Five calls through the door to his siblings, moving to start taking off the tie.

“You have to let us see!” Allison yells back.

He groans. Does everything have to be a whole endeavor with these people? “Fine.” He swings open the door and steps out to glare at his siblings.

“Aw,” Klaus coos, clapping his hands. “You look like an adorable baby republican.”

Allison snorts. “A little bit.”

“Great,” Five deadpans. “That’s exactly what I was going for. Thanks.”

“Sorry,” Allison says. “We don’t mean it. You look nice, Five.”

“And we know you’re not a republican,” Klaus says. “Actually, you can’t even vote, so—”

“Is this really helpful right now?” Allison asks him. “Think it through, Klaus.”

“Ally, you take the fun out of everything.”

“I do not. I’m very fun! And I’m the cool mom.”

“I’m pretty sure cool moms don’t refer to themselves as cool moms,” Five says, folding his arms over his chest.

“That’s rude,” she says. “And how would you even know?”

“Logic,” he says with a shrug. “Reason. I’m the only one in this family capable of those things anyway.”

“Ben does not agree with that,” Klaus puts in.

“Ha!” Allison pumps her fist in victory like the child she is.

“But he also says that referring to yourself as a cool mom is kinda lame.”

Now it’s Five’s turn to crow. “Ha!”

“He did not!” Allison protests.

“I would never lie about Ben,” Klaus says, clutching a hand to his chest and feigning offense.

“Just this morning you said that Ben forced you to play  _ Toxic _ by Britney Spears seventeen times at 3:00 a.m.”

“Is that what that monstrosity is called?” Five asks.

Klaus gasps. “How dare you slander the greatest song ever written, Five. How. Dare. You.”

“Is that supposed to be intimidating?” he asks.

“It is not the greatest song ever written,” Allison argues.

“Yeah? Then what is?”

“Can I change out of this thing yet?” Five asks, waving his arms to get their attention back.

Allison waves him off. “Yeah, go for it. Look,  _ Toxic _ is by no means a bad song, and it certainly is iconic, but—”

Five jumps back into the changing room and tunes them out before he has to hear any more.

He stares at his outfit in the mirror. Oh God, he’s actually going to get up in front of his stupid siblings and play some stupid song on his stupid violin. He actually agreed to do that. Vanya put him in the program.

Well, at least it’s not as ridiculous and childish as the full-blown argument that’s happening next to him. 

Five throws the door open. “Shut up about it,” he snaps, “or I’m jumping home.”

Allison sighs. “If you’re gonna jump, at least give me the clothes first. I don’t want to be accessory to shoplifting.”

“Are you gonna keep arguing about it?”

“If she keeps being  _ wrong, _ ” Klaus says. 

“Yeah, that seems about right. Come on, let’s go pay for these horrid things.” He waves the clothes in their faces.

They grumble, but follow him towards the register. Children, both of them. All of them, really.

He picked some unfortunate people too love. Oh well. It’s far too late to turn back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did some research for the flower meanings, but i'm not an expert of anything so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> also i did not take into account any of the climates that they grow in, but if anything's off we can just pretend 
> 
> pls leave a comment i crave validation :)

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think! most of this is plotted out, but if you have some little fluff prompts you want to see feel free to shout them out in the comments and i might add them in :)
> 
> next up: the rest of the siblings make their appearance, violin lessons start, and Five makes a new friend


End file.
